


Wherever You Are

by Mintsea



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Multiple Perspectives, Summer of Olicity, bromance angst, post-season 3, road trip fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-02 12:40:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4060378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mintsea/pseuds/Mintsea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Season 3, Pre Season 4 Summer Fic. </p><p>Oliver and Felicity are on the road enjoying their life together, but at home, The Diggles, Thea and Laurel are all grappling with the aftermath of a disastrous year. What does it take to finally bring Oliver and Felicity home? </p><p>COMPLETED.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1: John Diggle and Lyla Michaels

**Author's Note:**

> AN: It’s been ten years since I’ve picked up the fanfic pen, but I can’t deal with the hiatus any longer. I’ve been binge reading road trip stories in my spare time and thought it was time I threw my hat in the ring to deal with my Arrow longings. 
> 
> This story is Olicity at the core and focuses on extended Team Arrow (John and Lyla, Thea and Laurel) and their lives as Felicity & Oliver are off on holiday. 
> 
> I don’t have a beta, so all errors, though throughly terrorising to my soul, do belong to me.
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy.

** W H E R E V E R   Y O U  A R E**

CHAPTER ONE: JOHN DIGGLE AND LYLA MICHAELS

 

Fact: John Diggle was not a man who spent a lot of time emailing. 

Sure, he and Lyla had kept in touch during their divorced period, and a couple of military buddies who were now state-side and spread across the continental U.S occasionally dropped him a line, but typically, John Diggle was not someone you’d find sitting at his kitchen table on a Saturday morning following a particularly long night on patrol, a cup of joe sitting beside his Felicity-fied laptop, logged into gmail. 

And it is this particularly sight that greets Lyla Michaels as she keys the lock on the front door to her apartment and pushes it open, her limbs tired and sweaty from a 10K run, her senses immediately overpowered by the wonderful waft of freshly brewed coffee from the kitchen. 

“How was the run?” Digg asks as his wife crosses the living room, homing in on the coffee pot sitting on the table beside him, and her cup he’d readied in anticipation for her return. 

“Good,” she breathes, her hands smoothing across his broad shoulders and her sweaty lips brushing against his cheek as she takes the chair beside him. 

Without fault, Digg pours her a cup of black coffee and hands it to Lyla; which she readily accepts and gulps down her first mouthful with a contented sigh. “Sara up?” She asks, nursing the cup closely to her chest like its priceless treasure.  

Digg smiles at his gorgeous second-time wife and shakes his head. “She stirred for a bit about half an hour ago but went back to sleep. I was secretly relieved.” 

Lyla laughs and leans forward to kiss him softly. “Well, thank you for staying up an extra hour so I could get in my baby free run,” she says, and then leans in for another kiss. “You look like shit Johnny,” she says wearily, her free hand ghosting across his tired face, “And you need a good sleep. I thought Thea was going to relieve you at 0300?” 

He frowns, pressing his hand against hers on his cheek. “She was, but she was exhausted so I sent her home,” he says, rubbing the knuckles of her hand with his thumb, “Its only been two months since the whole…resurrection thing, and while she’s thrown herself wholehearted into the vigilante lifestyle since _they_ left, I think its better if she slows down a bit until she fully adjusts.” 

Lyla nods to screen open on a long email from Felicity in front of them. “Speaking of _they,”_ she says, mocking Johnny’s contempt of his estranged best friend, “where are they this week?” 

“San Francisco,” Digg says simply. 

Lyla grins. “They’ve been gone for a month, you think they’d have made it further than 400 miles.” 

“I’d say they’ve been pretty busy _wrapped up_ in other things,” he says. 

Lyla snorts. She remembers that phase. Hell, both of the honeymoon phases she’s had with Johnny. To be honest, their currently life isn’t far from it now even with a baby, but she’s stoked that after all this time, Oliver and Felicity are finally getting a honeymoon phase themselves. 

Digg gets out of his chair, grabbing the coffee pot and taking it back into the kitchen to the percolator. He sighs deeply, running his hands across his closely cropped hair, and then frowns, turning back towards Lyla, his muscular folded against his chest, his hip resting against the kitchen counter. 

Lyla frowns and leans back in her chair. “I’ve told you a million times Johnny, it’s _okay._ I’m _okay_. Sara is _okay._ You need to stop this endless pout that comes over your face every-time you get an email from Felicity, or someone even hints and the mention of Oliver.”  

Digg winces at Oliver’s name and frowns. “I’m not pouting,” he says grumpily, and Lyla has to conceal her smile with another sip of coffee. 

“Yes, you are,” She says bluntly. “I knew he wasn’t going to hurt me, Johnny. That Maseo wasn’t going to hurt Sara. I would have torn all of their faces off if I thought for one second, they would hurt so much a a hair on our baby girls head. It looked bad, boy oh boy did it look bad, but it wasn’t. They were watching her right up until the moment you opened our door. And I know that because Felicity, who was just as hurt as you over finding Sara alone, told me, pleaded with me to tell you. Repeatedly.”

Lyla doesn’t admit that for a moment, a small slither of time, as she sat tied to a chair in the ridiculous medieval looking warehouse, she might have thought she had misplaced her trust in Oliver. That maybe, maybe it wasn't a rouse; but even as he snarled at her, paced around her menacingly, it was the softer plea that she be quiet that tipped her off. And as far as hostage situations go, Lyla and Digg both have to admit all in all, it was a pretty non-eventful, non-terrible one. 

“I’m still not ready to forgive him,” Digg says eventually. 

Lyla nods. “I know.” She puts her coffee down on the table and gives him a loving smile. “So, San Fransisco, huh?” She says, pulling the laptop closer to her to read Felicity’s email. “They survived Vegas then and the big reveal to Mama Smoak?” 

“Yes, though apparently not without some stern reminders from at least eight casinos on the strip that between Felicity’s pre-MIT card counting days, and Oliver’s pre-island debauchery, they aren’t exactly welcome in many establishments.” 

Lyla grins looking up from the keyboard. “That’s fantastic.” 

Digg shakes his head at her, but a smile has crept into his eyes and Lyla gives him a wink. He crosses the kitchen to place a loving kiss on the top of her sweaty head. “I’m going to shower and get some sleep.” He hooks a finger under her chin and lifts her lips to his for a sweet kiss. “Love you.” 

“Love you too Johnny. Pouty face and all.” 

Digg groans as he heads down the hallway to their bathroom. She listens for the sound of running water before she scrolls to the top of the email to read for herself. 

 

> **To: JDiggle@starlingmail.com**  
>  **From: FelicityS@gmail.com**  
>  **Subject: Greetings from San Francisco!**
> 
> _ Dear John, Lyla & Baby Sara _
> 
> _Hello Diggle Family! We miss you terribly!  _
> 
> _ We’ve finally settled in San Fran after what felt like more than enough time, for one lifetime, with my mother. I thought after the last two visits she had to Starling City that it would be rather easy with the whole relationship transition between Oliver and I, but no, there was far too much screaming and crying (with glee) and general displays of horrific embarrassment from Donna Smoak for my liking.  _
> 
> _I thought for sure it would be Oliver pleaded for us to get out of there - I counted no less than fifty mentions of all the 24hr wedding chapels in Vegas by “Please Oliver, call me Mom;  it won’t be much longer until its official anyway.”  - but after two weeks, it was actually me who threaten to jump in the Porche alone and not look back if we didn’t move on.  _
> 
> _ And, quite frankly, we ran out of places to visit. We both, ahem, have a few indiscretions in this town - not what you thinking, it was all prior this visit - but the highlight was probably being escorted by no less than four security men from the Bellagio at 10am, during breakfast with Mom and her new ‘friend’ Ted. For the record, it was me they were after. I’ve never seen Oliver grin so widely with pride. Apparently they hadn’t forgotten the card-counting incident of 2009. All in all, up to eight places didn’t look particularly happy to see us across the strip.  _
> 
> _ Anyway, things are lot calmer since we hit San Fran. Oliver has never been here before so we’re doing all the touristy things - food tours, wine tours, Fisherman’s Wharf, Lombard St (check out the photo attached). We even have a tour booked for Alcatraz. I’m not kidding. Guess you can take the boy out of the crime fighting suit, but can’t take the crime fighting out of the boy huh? I am praying to Goggle it is a non-eventful day. _
> 
> _ On that note, I want you to all know, we’ve only had to use our crime fighting skills on two occasions. Okay five. Ten max. And those are the ones I know about. Oliver came home from a run this afternoon with a cut lip but swears it was a signpost he didn’t see.  _
> 
> _ Yeah, I don’t believe it either.  _
> 
> _ I’ll keep you posted on the Alcatraz tour.  _
> 
> _ Give Sara a kiss from me yeah?  _
> 
> _ Love Felicity  _ _ (& Oliver. ) _

 

\- - -

 “Oliver, have you seen the news today?” Felicity asks from their bed. 

She is sitting with her back against the quilted luxury hotel headboard, her knees bent close to her chest so she can use them to prop up her tablet as she drinks her coffee, her glasses slipping down her nose as she peers towards their adjoining bathroom. 

“No, why?” Oliver asks serenely through a muffled mouthful of toothbrush and toothpaste, poking his head around the door frame. 

Felicity cocks he head at him. “There was a carjacking two streets away yesterday afternoon. Last night the Police charged a twenty-five year old man following a citizens arrest.” 

Oliver leans in the doorjamb, bare chested and in sweatpants. “Hmmmm,” he says, pulling the toothbrush out of his mouth, his lips covered in toothpaste. “We should pick hotels in safer areas,” he grins. 

Felicity rolls her eyes. “Your incorrigible,” she says sitting the coffee down on the bedside table.

“Pretty sure that’s why you love me,” he says impishly, positively beaming now. He stalks towards her, toothbrush still in his hand, still covered in toothpaste, and in seconds is on the bed, his lips pressed to hers. He prizes the tablet out of her fingers, placing it with his toothbrush on the bed beside them, and then with both hands on her hips, pulls her body down flat against the mattress. He presses his hips to hers, his lips moving from her lips down to the column of her neck and crook of her shoulder.

“You taste minty,” Felicity says, reclaiming his lips again. She looks down at the thick strap of her white tank top, now covered in silty toothpaste reside. “And I’m covered in toothpaste.” 

“We can fix that,” Oliver murmurs, nudging the strap down her shoulder with his nose, chasing its path with his lips. 

Felicity sneaks a look at her tablet for the time, Oliver’s mouth teasing wonderful patterns against her skin. 

“Our Ferry for the tour leaves in an hour,” she says. 

“Plenty of time. And if we’re late. We can just go tomorrow…” he says, capturing her lips again.

“It doesn’t work like that…” she starts to whine, as the other strap of her tank top is slipped down her shoulder, “It’s tourist season…we have to book in advance-“ 

“Fe-lic-ity,” Oliver says cutting her off, pulling back a bit to look at her. 

“Oliver,” she says with the same tone, her pursed lips slightly swollen. 

Oliver grins. “God you’re beautiful when you get all bossy.” 

“Just when I’m bossy?” she asks, with a raised eyebrow, sucking her lip in between her teeth. 

“You know the answer to that,” he says in a low voice. 

And he’s right, she does. 

 - - - 


	2. 2: Thea Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Working through her post resurrection life, Thea ponders the fate of the Foundry and Verdant while dealing with some unusual responses to her 'normal' life. In Portland, Oliver plans a special treat for Felicity and introduces her to an old friend.

 

** W H E R E V E R   Y O U   A R E **

CHAPTER TWO: THEA QUEEN 

 

If anyone had asked Thea Queen four months ago how it felt to come back from the dead, she would have laughed, arched a perfectly manicured eyebrow and thrown them a wicked grin. “You should talk to Ollie,” she would have said cheekily and stalked off on Christian Louboutins towards the VIP booth at Verdant with a bottle of Greygoose and a bunch of shot glasses.

 

But that would have been before all hell had broken loose. 

 

Now, one hundred and nine days after dead - or 109 A.D - Thea has absolutely no idea howto answer the question she knows plagues the minds of those closest to her. She doesn’t even know how to answer the question she poses _at herself_ in the bathroom mirror, her hair dripping wet, water sliding down her shoulders and what feels like a month worth of black eyeliner caked on her face from last night’s patrol. 

 

Thea sighs, pulls a crazy face at her reflection in the mirror and resolves that today, 109 days after her own death, it might be time to start resurrecting Verdant, because quite honestly, even with the gruelling vigilant schedule, she needs a day job. 

 

Thea dresses, throws on a leather jacket and heads to Verdant on Ollie’s bike. She’d swapped him the Porche she’d brought when she moved into the Merlyn financed loft for his beloved Ducati so that he an Felicity had a getaway car for the Summer. As she parks the bike in the alleyway behind the club, she ponders that her fearlessness of riding a motorbike is something that New Thea has. Old Thea would have been horrified by the thought of helmet hair and possible bugs in her teeth. 

 

Inside, Verdant is clean and unchanged in physical appearance. All the glasses are washed, polished and stacked ready for opening, the shelves behind the bar are stocked with the best and exclusive brands Thea knows will sell. The fridges under the bar are full with everything from Cristal to premixed vodka to Heineken to Rekorderlig. But even thought everything appears virtually unchanged, the place feels different and totally gutted of spirit. 

 

Verdant was her home. Thea spent day and night in here for two years, turning Ollie’s vigilante cover story into something she actually loved. Or had loved. Though, she reasons with herself, she spent that time here with Roy and whether they were together or not at the time, he was still here with her. But now he was gone too. 

 

The truth is, and Thea doesn't like to admit it, Verdant got the all clear from the Starling City Police Department to reopen weeks ago. With Roy Harper’s death, The Arrow was gone, and the forensic accountants proved there was no financial connection between Roy’s work at Verdant and his vigilante lair in the basement underneath; ergo, Verdant was cleared to reopen. But by that time, Thea was engrossed in setting up the new temporary foundry in the living room of her loft (with long lists of tech and equipment info emailed to her from Felicity) given Ray had disappeared off the face of the Earth after the explosion at Palmer Tech.

 

Laurel’s apartment was tiny, Digg didn’t want Sara near anything pointy or sharp, and Thea, missing the company in her large loft apartment now that Ollie was off on a summer sexcapade with Felicity, decided that her place was the best option for now. Strangely enough, neither Digg or Laurel protested, and quickly, as the financier of their vigilantism, Thea began to feel comfortable with a plethora of weapons and computers in her home. 

 

But with the new lair set up and running in her loft, the thought of the mess the SCPD had left in the basement, the broken glass and ruins of The Arrow Cave, played heavily in her mind. Increasingly superstitious since her dip in the Lazarus Pit, Thea worried that the ruins downstairs were an omen for their new vigilante team, and the longer they laid there, the more the poison of what Ra’s had done to ruin the name of The Arrow and Oliver Queen still slithered undetected through the back of their minds. 

 

Thea huffs out a long sigh and ditches her helmet, jacket and keys on the bar. She flicks on the flood lights and decided that if she is going to face the mess downstairs, she's going to need a beat or two to get her trembling hands under control. The tremors are something that come and go during the day; during times when Thea has to have a normal 20-something life. Like when she is buying groceries, emailing or straightening her hair, putting gas in the Ducati, or reaching for the bowl of popcorn. If she has a weapon in her hand, is jumping of a building or holding a bow, there is not one detection of a tremor at all. Go figure. 

 

Thea seats herself at the bar and stretches her hands out in front of her on the cold hard surface. Her left hand, she decides, is worse today, so she reaches across the bar for a glass and the closest bottle of amber liquor with her right hand. She shakily pours herself a nip of whisky and breathes in the scent of the deep oak with the glass held to her nose. She takes a sip, swirling the liquid around her mouth, letting it coat her tongue and the back of her throat before swallowing. She hisses at the burning sensation it sends through her insides and into her stomach. She swirls the rest of the nip around the sides of her glass but doesn’t drink it. 

 

“Come on Thea,” she says to herself, swinging her body off the stool, her boots clicking on the concrete floor as she stands. “Stop being such a baby.” 

 

 

\- - -

 

“I like this place,” Felicity says with a sweep of her fork into a piece of crispy bacon on Oliver’s plate. She grins at Oliver who pouts a little for show before leaning down to place a kiss on her forehead. “And the coffee is to die for. Seriously. Best we’ve had the entire time on the road. Maybe the best I’ve had _ever_. Who’d have thought Portland had been holding out on us for the past three days?”

 

Oliver laughs, and it is a sound that makes Felicity positively beam back at him as she puts down the fork and tucks herself under his arm, her hand resting leisurely on his trick knee. 

 

“I’d hoped you say that,” Oliver says, reaching for his own cup of black, sugarless, double shot coffee and taking a sip. He captures the eye of the waitress who looks up from the counter just across from them and orders another coffee for Felicity with a point to her cup and a broad smile. 

 

“Thank you,” Felicity says, squeezing his knee affectionately. 

 

“You know, they roast and sell their own beans here too,” Oliver says as the whirl of the coffee machine starts and the waitress begins to froth Felicity another caramel latte. Felicity cocks an eyebrow at him, which makes him smile. “Oh, I did my research.” 

 

“You learnt how to use google?” she teases.

 

He laughs again, this fingers gently curling into the high straight ponytail she’d fixed this morning (and grumbled about straightening because all the ‘ruffling’ her hair was getting was making it incredibly unruly). “No, I actually know the owner.” 

 

Felicity looks at him incredulously before breaking out into a fit of giggles. “Of course you do,” she says. “Let me guess, ex girlfriend pre-island?” 

 

“Please tell me he didn’t just use the, ‘I know the owner line on you’?” A male voice says from behind them, making Felicity jump. The owner of the voice, and Felicity surmises the small trendy cafe, is similar in age and hair colour to Oliver, but decidedly shorter, thinner in stature and a little softish around the middle. He beams at them both with a wolfish grin, much like one Felicity has seen before back in Starling City, and even though Felicity guesses he can’t be older than thirty, his hairline has started to recede. 

 

Oliver grins, his thumb skimming along the ball of her shoulder comfortingly. “Felicity Smoak, this is Scott Lance.” 

 

Felicity smiles at the man as he takes a seat in the vacant chair beside her. “So definitely ex-girlfriend pre-island then?” She says to Oliver, the smile akin to Captain Quentin Lance clicking into place. Felicity shakes Scott’s hand. “Nice to meet you Scott. This place is lovely.” 

 

“Thank you,” he says, with a friendly smile. “It’s nice to meet you too Felicity.” He looks to Oliver. “It’s good to see you Ollie. Even if it has been eight years,” he says earnestly. 

 

Oliver smiles, looking around at the coffee shop. “I like the new look, Scott. Barely recognise the place from all those years ago,”he says. 

 

The waitress delivers Felicity’s fresh coffee and Felicity gives a small squeak of delight.

 

 Oliver laughs, and Felicity blushes, taking the mug of coffee in both hands. “And thank you for fitting us in…I know you don’t usually do private tours on a Tuesday…”

 

Scott waves him off with a smile. “Happy to do it Ollie, it’s no hassle.” 

 

“Tour?” Felicity asks, with a raised eyebrow her gaze moving between Oliver and Scott for answers. 

 

Oliver nods. “Scott is going to show us how they roast their beans, you’re going to give it a go yourself, and then we’ll take some ground beans with us so you’ve got some for the rest of our trip.”

 

Felicity smiles and leans up to give Oliver a quick kiss. “Thank you,” she says. Scott clears his throat and Felicity realises they might have been doing that Oliver/Felicity faraway thing that she’s sure much of Team Arrow has had to put up with over the past…forever.

 

“Okay,” Scott says, clapping his hands together. “First things first. Felicity, how do you take your coffee?”

 

Felicity smiles. “Sweet. Cream. Shot of caramel.” She chews her lip self consciously. “By the bucketload.” 

 

Scott laughs and looks to Oliver. “I’m hoping your tastes have improved since college?”

 

Oliver chuckles, “I’m an espresso or long black kind of guy these days.” 

 

“College?” Felicity asks, sipping on her coffee. Oliver nods. “Scott and I went to college together…once. I think it was my third attempt?” Oliver says, looking to Scott for clarification. 

 

Scott laughs and nods. “Yes, Berkeley.” 

 

Felicity gapes at Oliver. “You went to Berkeley?” 

 

Oliver grins. “For a semester. Economics.” 

 

“It was two,” Scott clarifies, “but I’m not sure you were enrolled the second semester. You just kept coming to the parties, before you got kicked out.” 

 

Felicity beams. “Why does that not surprise me?” 

 

Oliver grins at her. “I was at least resourceful, even if I was rubbish at studying.” 

 

“Well, it’s good to know your tastes and behaviour have improved significantly,” Scott says pointedly with a wink to Felicity. “Ok, well let me go and round up Dad and we’ll get on with the tour.” Scott give them another happy smile before heading back behind the counter and towards the cafe kitchen.

 

Felicity places her mug of coffee down on the table and leans into Oliver, cupping either side of his face, bring him in for a soft measured kiss. 

 

“What was what for?” he asks.

 

“Thank you; I needed this. I was starting to really really miss coffee.” 

 

“My pleasure,” Oliver says, pulling her back in for a gentle kiss. “It’s not entirely selfless…”

 

Felicity presses her forehead to his. “Oh I know, but it is the thought that counts. I do have one small question…” Oliver quirks an eyebrow at her as an okay, “Did you bring Laurel here or did she bring you?” 

 

Oliver inwardly groans. He hadn’t even thought about that. They’d arrived in Portland and he hadn’t even contemplated getting in touch with Scott Lance. However the little wrinkle Felicity gets in her forehead when things aren’t right, and she’s trying not to let on was continually staring at him every morning he made or brought subpar coffee back from a nearby coffee shop. She’d given up a lot to come away with him, and he knew on the grand scheme of choices coffee didn’t rank…but it did matter to her. And he like watching her drink her coffee and the total sigh of happiness she’d had in the first couple of week of mornings when they’d been at her mum and she had access to herfavourite coffee. It brightened both of their days. 

 

“Laurel brought me here one summer and that’s when I met Scott. Then Scott and I would catch up every now and again after I left Berkeley. When you said last night you were craving good decent coffee again…this was the first place I thought of…” Oliver sighs and he opens his mouth to say more but Felicity speaks first. 

 

“I’m not mad Oliver. I’m touched.”

 

He hikes an eyebrow at her. “Really, because now I think about it, it’s kind of a dick move…”

 

Felicity laughs and it makes Oliver smile. “It is a little bit,” she says, pushing her glasses up her nose, “But this is a place from your _past_ that you are sharing in your _present_ with me that has _good_ memories. And that’s pretty huge for us. Besides, Laurel is not just your ex-girlfriend. She is my friend. And she has excellent taste in coffee.” 

 

Oliver’s hand moves to the small of her back. “I am getting good at this relationship thing aren’t I?” 

 

Felicity chuckles. “If you have to ask, then you’re not a smooth as you think.” 

 

Felicity’s phone lights up from the table and Felicity leans over to collect it. She checks the caller I.D and smiles, holding the screen up to Oliver and he beams; Thea. The bond that Thea and Felicity formed while he was away makes him very happy to have not only both of them in his life, but in each others. 

 

They are the only people in the coffee shop, so Felicity answers the call and flicks it over to speaker. 

 

“Morning Thea,” Felicity says brightly, “How are you?” 

 

“I’m good,” Thea says cheerfully, down the other end of the line. “Where are you guys today?” 

 

“Hi Speedy,” Oliver says. “We’re in Portland.” 

 

“Portland?” Thea asks incredulously. “Dear god, why?” 

 

Oliver rolls his eyes at Felicity. “What’s wrong with Portland?” he asks, but Felicity cuts him off. 

 

“Why not?” She says to Thea. “Besides, your brother is being very thoughtful and we’re actually about to do a coffee roastery tour.” 

 

“That is very thoughtful of you Ollie,” Thea agrees. “Earning yourself some brownie points I see.” 

 

Felicity laughs and winks at Oliver. “He’s all good for brownie points Thea.” 

 

Thea groans. “I regret this line of conversation immediately.” 

 

Oliver huffs a laugh and takes the phone from Felicity as she stands and stretches. “Thea, I’m going to go pay for breakfast, I’ll email you back tonight okay?” Felicity says. 

 

“Okay, no worries!” Thea says, before Oliver switches her off speaker and lifts the phone to his ear. 

 

“How’s things in Starling?” he asks in a low voice out of earshot from Felicity. 

 

“Busy. We’ve been running down a cocaine ring this week. Its no walk in the park but thank god it isn’t Vertigo.” 

 

“How’s everyone doing?” 

 

“Laurel’s fine. She’s working this both sides so she’s pretty exhausted. I’m taking her shift tonight because she’s got D.A work.” 

 

“And Digg?” Oliver asks. He’d text Digg a few times in the last couple of weeks but there was still no reply. Digg was well and truly set up in the ‘I’ll talk to you when I am ready and not before’ camp. 

 

“He’s good Ollie. Sara’s getting close to walking. Keeps pulling herself up on everything, but she hasn’t quite got the balance yet.” Thea pauses. “He still hasn’t text you back has he?” 

 

“No,” Oliver says evenly. “Soon hopefully. But knowing he’s looking out for you is plenty for now.” 

 

“He is,” Thea agrees.

 

“How are you doing Speedy?” Oliver asks earnestly.

 

“I’m oh-kay,” Thea says.“Nights are better than days. Days are sucky. I miss you guys-”

 

“We miss you too,” Oliver interjects quickly.

 

“I know,” she says. “I’m still getting the tremors.”

 

“Speedy-“ Oliver says warningly.

 

“Not as much,” she lies, “but they are still there.”

 

Oliver decides it isn’t the time to push her, so he changes tact. “And Verdant?”

 

Thea laughs, “Funny you should ask actually. I’m actually in the foundry, or what’s left of the foundry now.” 

 

Oliver frowns. “The cops all done with everything?” he tries to ask evenly, but fails. 

 

“Yep. Everything of worth, of The Arrow, is well and truly locked up safe in their evidence warehouse. There is just lots of broken glass, smashed cabinets, turned over tables and some ladder thing and training equipment left.” She heaves a sigh. “Listen Ollie, is there anything here you want? I need to clean this place out. It’s giving me nightmares.” 

 

Felicity is back at his elbow and tugging on his shirt. “The salmon ladder,” she says, looking down at him, “she needs to keep that.” 

 

Oliver grins at her and flicks the phone back onto speaker. “Two things - the ‘ladder thing’, can you put that in storage?” 

 

“Ohhkaay,” Thea says, and Oliver can here her footsteps crunching across the foundry floor down the line. “What the hell is this thing?” 

 

“I’ll explain when you’re older,” Felicity says teasingly.

 

Thea makes a gagging sound and sighs. “Okay, and the second thing?” 

 

“The fern,” Oliver says, looking at Felicity, “is that still there?” 

 

“The fern that I’m currently watering every day in your room fern?” Thea asks. “Felicity had me move it from her apartment when you first left.”

 

Oliver looks at Felicity perplexed, and Felicity nods. “Yeah, Thea, that’s the one,” she says with a smile at Oliver. “I rescued it post Roy, pre Nanda Parbat. I’m touched you thought of it, Oliver. Little concerned it’s taken you this long though…”

 

Oliver smiles and Felicity leans down to brush her lips against his. “Scott is ready for us…” she says on his lips.

 

“Are you kissing?” Thea asks, “because I hear kissing.” 

 

“Thea,” Oliver says loudly, “we have to go. We’ve got coffee beans to roast. Thank you for taking care of everything.” 

 

“No worries Ollie,” she says, “Drive safe.” 

 

\- - - 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Thank you to everyone for the wonderful words of encouragement and leaving kudos on chapter one. It was great to receive such positive feedback!


	3. Chapter Three: Laurel Lance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laurel reflects on the things she finds wanting in her life. Meanwhile Oliver and Felicity enjoy a quiet night in Vancouver.

**W H E R E V E R   Y O U   A R E**

 CHAPTER THREE: LAUREL LANCE

 

Laurel Lance was not a person who ever thought she would be found wanting. Until now.

 

The last three years of her life had been a roller-coaster of epic proportions, and as she coasted comfortably through the last trough, on a straight level track after the last harrowing League of Assassins infiltrated peak, _the calm_ so to speak, hadn’t left her with any feelings of contentment; she now felt more lonely, more wanting, than ever. 

 

Above all else, Laurel misses being with someone. An actual someone she could go on dates with, hold hands with at the market, cuddle up on the couch with pizza and ice-cream. That was where she found herself wanting the most. Even though it was incredibly satisfying kicking someone’s ass either in the court room on or the streets, it had become nullifying to get home at night, or in the early hours of pre-dawn to an empty apartment and not share her victories, or her defeats, with a someone. Her _someone_.  

 

Besides, she doesn't exactly get opportunities to meet decent men, she reasons on the drive to Mario’s Pizzeria where she stops to pick up pie for the night-shift at Thea’s place.And even if she did, when exactly would she get the time to date them? The hour or two between the day and night shift busting criminals? 

 

Dear god she misses Tommy.

 

Laurel continues to berate herself as she waits for her Mushroom and Olive pizza at Mario’s. The owner, a guy decidedly not named Mario but Jimmy, flirts with her as she orders and waits for her food; but Jimmy’s in his early sixties and even though Laurel’s pretty light on when it comes to meeting men, she draws the line at men old enough to be her father. Or rather, older than her father. Which is certainly the case here. 

 

Laurel is saved by a text from Thea inquiring about food, and as Laurel distractedly takes the order from Jimmy and says she’ll see him next Saturday night for more pie, Laurel heads for the door, her pizza box balancing precariously in her right hand. The bell on the door chimes as Laurel approaches and it isn’t until she almost runs into the body trying to enter that Laurel looks up. 

 

“Laurel?” Ted asks curiously, his hands dug into the pockets of his bomber jacket.

 

Laurel fumbles her phone and food, surprised to see Ted in this neighbourhood, which causes Ted to reach out and catch the pizza box before it hits the floor. 

 

“Thank you,” she says with a smile, accepting it back from him. “It’s nice to see you Ted.” 

 

“You too,” he says. “It’s been a while.” 

 

She nods, chewing her lip. A while is an under statement. The last time she saw him had been after dragging him to the hospital post-Brick, bleeding, battered and completely unconscious. “You look well,” she says lamely, and then suddenly regrets it because it is totally a pathetic thing to say.

Ted smiles, scrapping his hands across his chin. “You too Laurel. How have you been?” 

 

“Busy,” she says. She then smiles and give him a small shrug. “You know how it can be.” 

 

Ted laughs. “I do.” 

 

“And hows the gym going?” Really Laurel? 

 

“Busy,” he smiles. “You know how it can be.” 

 

“I do,” she smiles. Laurel’s phone chirps and she looks down. It’s Thea again. Laurel huffs a sigh. 

 

“Anyway,” Ted says awkwardly, hands back in his pockets, “I should let you go.”

 

Laurel nods, stashing her phone in her bag. “Yeah, sorry. My friend is expecting me.” 

 

They do an awkward shuffle in the doorway and switch places, Ted moving to stand in the doorway of the Pizzeria, Laurel now standing on the sidewalk. It’s just gone dark and a group of college kids run by dressed up, heading to a party. 

 

Ted laughs nervously, scratching his head. “Listen, I uh, have been meaning to give you a call. I know your busy, with lots of things, but would you like to have dinner again sometime?” 

 

“Dinner?” Laurel asks dumbly, before she can stop herself, and Ted cocks his head at her. Laurel laughs. “I’m sorry, I’m being weird aren’t I?” 

 

Ted smiles. “It’s okay, really. As I said, I know you are busy-”

 

“Dinner would be lovely,” Laurel says cutting him off. “Just right now, things are really crazy.” 

 

“I can imagine. I saw you uh…lost a colleague?” He says, and while Laurel know he’s referring to the ‘death’ of the The Arrow, he really has no idea. Without Oliver _and_ Roy, things are definitely crazy with the new vigilante club. “I’m sorry about that.” 

 

Laurel smiles. “Thanks,” she says earnestly. Because it is nice to hear sincerity about the whole situation. She’s not getting it from her Dad at the moment, and even though they are working to you know, _build bridges_ and _mend fences_ , he’s still painfully brisk about the whole Sara’s-dead-Oliver-is-the-real-Arrow-Roy’s-‘death’-is-Oliver’s-fault-my-daughter-is-the-Black-Canary-you-lied-to-me-the-whole-time-and-why-is-Felicity-Smoak-dating-a-jerk-like-Queen? conundrum. “So things are _really_ crazy, but maybe we could catch up over lunch instead? I mean I know you have clients during the day but-”

 

“I can make lunch work,” Ted says with grin. 

 

Laurel beams. “Okay. Good. How about I call you during the week and we’ll set something up.” 

 

“Sounds like a plan,” Ted says, and then has to move aside so an older couple can leave with their Pizza order. 

 

Laurel clears her throat awkwardly as the couple step around her and she has to move to get out of their way. And she suddenly feels dumb for standing in the doorway. “Okay, great.” She shuffles the pizza box. “I should go. My friend is waiting. Bye Ted.” 

 

Ted gives her a small wave. “Bye Laurel.” 

 

Laurel holds her breath as she crosses the road to the car. It isn’t until she climbs behind the wheel and stashes the Pizza on the passenger seat that she exhales deeply. Dear god, is awkwardness contagious because Felicity has definitely rubbed off on her…

 

** \- - -  **

 

Felicity is sitting cross legged on the bed, her tablet propped up on Oliver’s pillow when Oliver returns from his run to their Vancouver hotel room with wine and dinner. 

 

“Okay, so they didn’t have any Rothschild, which is good because quite honestly I’d have brought it for you and we’d have to stay in a two star hotel next week, but I did get a modestly priced Bordeaux Cabernet which I am very excited about,” he says, placing two plastic bags of italian food on the kitchen counter and heading into the bedroom. 

 

Felicity is already grinning at him when he appears in the doorway. Oliver’s lips quirk when he sees it. “What?” he asks, toeing off his running shoes and leaning down to kiss her. He lifts her to her knees and as his right arm snakes around her waist, the other unashamedly goes straight to her pyjama short clad ass and skims the back of her thigh. 

 

The kiss is deep and passionate and Felicity considers leaving the food to get cold so she can pull him into bed. “What?” he asks again, this time as barely a whisper, once they come up for air. 

 

“I love seeing you like this,” she says simply, lifting her hand to brush her index finger across his left temple. “And I love when you find excellent Cabernet.” 

 

He smiles, and his right arm unfolds from around her waist and his hand raises up to trail a thumb across her bottom lip gently. “Well its easy to be committed to finding good wine when the payoff is so damn good.” 

 

Felicity laughs. “Did they have the beef ravioli?” 

 

“They did.”

 

“Excellent,” she says, leaning forward to peck him softly. “You go wash up and I’ll dish up dinner and pour us some wine.” 

 

“Sounds good,” he says, gently kissing her shoulder and then taking a step back to hike his sweaty shirt up and over his head. Felicity watches him, and he gives her a wicked smile as he walks across the room to the bathroom and closes the door. 

 

“Tease,” Felicity calls out after him. She grabs her tablet and gets off the bed, padding barefoot into the living area and towards the hotel room kitchen where Oliver left the food. She makes quick work of setting up her tablet again at the kitchen island breakfast bar, and then pulls two plates, two sets of cutlery and two red wine glasses from the cupboard. There is still half a glass of wine left in last nights bottle, so Felicity pours that into her glass, leaving Oliver the honour of opening the bottle of Cabernet he was so excited about. 

 

Felicity takes a seat at the breakfast bar with the glass of wine and pulls up her emails. The screen refreshes and an email from Laurel pops up. The subject line is: _SOS (I need database help…please call)_ and there is no other content to the email. 

 

Felicity takes a sip from her glass, opens her Skype app and calls the account Thea has set up for the new lair. 

 

 

** \- - -  **

 

The second area of her life Laurel Lance finds lacking is in the vicinity of I.T genius status.

 

 Sure she can run some basic searches, even use some of Felicity’s hacked software to rig traffic lights and track bad guys from bugs they’ve planted, but honestly, that’s about the extent of her computer skills. So when it comes to trying to set up or re-create a new system very much like the excellent one Felicity had custom built for them in the old lair, Laurel is so far our of her depth she might as well just get completely out of the water.

 

So, thankfully, over the past couple of weeks in between their days on and _off_ the grid, Felicity has been helping her remotely rebuild some of the system and databases accesses she previously had in place. But right now the whole thing is at a standstill and Laurel, full from the half of pizza she’d just inhaled, feels a little like she’s in a pizza coma haze and doesn’t even know where to begin to get the tech working.

 

“You okay?” Thea asks, coming down the stairs dressed in her patrol gear, her short thick brown speedy wig in place and mask hanging around her neck. 

 

Laurel frowns and spins her chair to face Thea. “No. I can’t get the connection with the SCPD database to refresh. They’ve upgraded their server and I have no idea how to get back in. I’m worried if I keep pushing it, I’m going to … break things.” Thea cocks an eyebrow at Laurel and she sighs. “I have no idea what I’m doing.” 

 

Thea gives her a a reassuring smile. “What we really need is Felicity. Even Lyla who worked this kind stuff at A.R.G.U.S can’t get her head around Felicity’s system.” 

 

Laurel nods. “Lyla had a look last night and came to the same conclusion as I have. We are pretty dead in the water without Felicity…or someone like her. Even Digg’s out of his depth and he’s been watching Felicity for years.” 

 

“Then, how long do we wait before we beg them to come back?” Thea asks, chewing her lip. “I mean we’re doing great without him, and this team works well with the democratic leadership its never had before, but, we could really do with Ollie here too. Even if he is all grumpy and bossy and quite frankly the worst team player I’ve ever seen.” 

 

Laurel shrugs. “I don’t know. Are we allowed to just beg them to come home? I mean as their friends and family, shouldn’t we just be happy they are happy?”

 

While Laurel is all for a hopefully return, she doesn’t want to have anything to do with a possible fallout between Felicity and Oliver. The deal they made in Ray’s office at Palmer Tech in front of all of them after the bioweapon was pretty clear - Oliver was giving up The Arrow to be with Felicity. It didn’t seem much like a package deal situation. Could the team have them back in Starling City, back working with them and still be happy together? 

 

“Thea makes a face at her. “Ugh, I guess so.” She sighs and heads over to her equipment trunk. “I don’t really understand any of their relationship rules,” Thea says reaching for her quiver and strapping it on. “But if they are finally together then maybe everyone can skip the daily Felicity and Oliver drama, and the team will be happier and more productive as a result.” 

 

Laurel snorts and Thea sends her a wicked grin. “Hey, I’ve had a lot of time to think about this given my own…” she scrunches her nose. “Roy stuff.”  

 

Thea grabs her bow from the rack of weapons and flicks her red mask up and over her eyes. She taps her ear piece. “Digg, I’m suited up. I’m coming to relieve you now.” 

 

“Thanks Speedy. See you soon.” Digg’s voice says over comms. 

 

Thea places a comforting hand on Laurel’s shoulder. “Email Felicity. See if she can help remotely.”

 

“I will,” Laurel smiles. “Be safe out there.”

 

“Always,” Thea says with a wave as she crosses the loft floor and leaves. 

 

With a frown Laurel turns back to the work station and fires off a tech S.O.S email to Felicity. 

 

To Laurel’s surprise, ten minutes later, Felicity’s picture pops up on the bottom of her screen for video chat. Laurel accepts the chat and finds Felicity waving at her. 

 

“Hey Laurel,” Felicity says brightly. “I got your email, figured you were still at Thea’s.” 

 

Laurel notices the glass of wine. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your evening…” Laurel says apologetically. 

 

“You didn’t,” Felicity says, taping at the tablet’s keyboard. “Oliver is in the shower. I’m sending through a remote access request to you now. Can you accept and I’ll take a look. I take it the SCPD one is the problem?” 

 

“Yeah, how did you know?” Laurel asks, clicking yes in the dialogue box that popped up from Felicity. Her desktop springs to life as Felicity takes over from her tablet remotely. “Though all of them are running pretty sluggishly.” 

 

Felicity smiles. “The I.T department at SCPD is pretty sketchy. I used to frequently rewrite their code to make our access harder, but more reliable.” 

 

Maybe its the rushed, we have ten minutes while Oliver is indisposed call, but Laurel gets the distinct impression that even as she smiles, something is up with Felicity. The smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes and she’s a lot more subdued, less chatty than usual. 

 

“Felicity, is everything okay?” Laurel asks. 

 

Felicity chews her lip for a moment and then sighs, her fingers moving across the tablet keyboard swiftly. “I had a dream this afternoon. Oliver was out running and I feel asleep reading. Have you had any dreams about dying on that dungeon floor in Nanda Parbat?” she asks in a low voice. 

 

Laurel nods. “Yes. The ‘gasping for air, I’m dying, no one isn’t going to save us’ kind.”

 

Felicity groans. “Yep,” she says popping the p, “that’s the one.”

 

“Are you getting them regularly?” 

 

Felicity shakes her head . “No actually. This is probably only the third time since it happened.” Felicity smiles at her screen. “Yeah, their database is a complete mess. I’ll upload the program I used to use in the Foundry which should patch you easier and still mask your access.”

 

Laurel grins. “Excellent, thank you. Does Ollie know about the dreams?” 

 

Felicity shakes her head. “Nope. I mean maybe?” She shrugs. “I haven’t the heart to mentioned them.”

 

“And what about the CEO stuff?” Laurel ventures. 

 

Felicity’s face fell at Laurel’s words. “No, definitely…NO.” Felicity sneaks a look off screen to check Oliver is still out of earshot. “Did you get in contact with Ray?”

 

A week after the mysterious explosion at Palmer Tech, their legal department had tracked Felicity down and delivered the news that prior to her resignation as Vice President, she’d signed documents to the effect that she was taking on the CEO position at Ray’s request from the 1st August. Felicity was completely mortified that Ray had used her distraction with Oliver and the League to hoodwink her into taking over his company, and she’d confided in Laurel and had her look over the legality of it. 

 

To Felicity’s dismay, the contract held up; and Felicity suddenly realised this had been Ray’s plan all along. The explosion may have been accident, but Ray was determined to up his testing of the A.T.O.M suit and if everyone in Starling City thought he was dead or presumed missing, he could do that with relative anonymity. And with his company signed over to Felicity to run, he could do it without losing the empire he’d reconstructed from Isabel Rochev’s (and Oliver’s if she’s being honest with herself) total demise of Queen Consolidated. 

 

The problem was, even with the help from Laurel, Barry & Cisco who were on board with Felicity’s theory and all helping her look for any signs of Ray across the globe, they still hadn’t found him. Felicity was determined he was still alive, and Laurel had sided with her, because to be honest, after the last few months with Oliver, Felicity had a good sense about these things. 

 

Felicity was due back as CEO of Palmer Technologies on August 1st, only a couple of weeks away; but Oliver had absolutely no idea. 

 

“No. I have nothing,” Laurel says sadly. “No email, no phone, no activity on his credit cards or bank accounts…”

 

“That we know of,” Felicity grumbles. Laurel bites her lip and Felicity frowns at her. “Hey, he had a lot of money and a lot of bank accounts. I wouldn’t have put it past him to hide something somewhere in plain sight.” 

 

Laurel had the distinct impression that Felicity was still smarting with anger at Ray about not telling her his plan. “And you’re still sure he’s not…”

 

“Dead?” 

 

Laurel grimaces. “Felicity. I’m just saying…”

 

Felicity takes of her glasses and rubs her eyes. “Laurel. He’s _alive_. I know it. Just like I knew Oliver was after he went to duel Ra’s.” Before Laurel can reply, Felicity sighs heavily and takes a sip of her wine. “Maybe I should touch base with Barry, Calitin  & Cisco…”

 

Laurel shifts in her chair. “It’s okay,” she says simply. “I’ll do it.” She frowns at the cheeky smile that creeps onto Felicity’s face. “What?” she breathes. 

 

“You know in Barry’s last email he mentioned you’d visited Central City a couple of times to see Cisco…”

 

“Laurel rolls her eyes. “It was vigilante related business Felicity. Don’t start planning a wedding yet. Besides,” Laurel says, “I actually ran into Ted Grant tonight and I’m going to have lunch with him this week. And,” Felicity is grinning at her like the cheshire cat and Laurel waves a finger at her, “don’t tell Thea. She’ll either try to give me a makeover or something before hand or she’s clam up and get all sad about Roy.” 

 

Felicity’s face fall a little. “How’s she doing? We spoke to her on Tuesday and she says she’s still having tremors.” 

 

“They are getting better. Slowly; but it’s progress right? But otherwise, when she is out as Speedy, -she’s still mad at Ollie over that by the way - she is kicking butt. Seriously.” 

 

Felicity laughs. “Yeah, that runs in the family.” 

 

“Any more citizen’s arrests on your end?”

 

Felicity grimaces. “None that have made the papers. To be honest, being away, its really great. No schedules; days in bed. sightseeing. It’s lovely…”

 

“But?”

 

Felicity sighs. “He’s getting bored. _I’m_ getting bored.”

 

“Huh,” Laurel says, leaning back in her desk chair, “That’s why it only took you a few minutes to skype me.” 

 

“Oliver was in the shower.” Felicity says, but can’t contain her smile. 

 

“Yeah, sure.” 

 

“Your email said SOS.” 

 

Laurel is the one to roll her eyes this time. 

 

“Okay,” Felicity says, “Try that. Reboot your system, let it start up… it will take a little bit. And log back into everything.” Felicity looks away from the camera. “Oliver,” she says with a warning tone, “I’m skyping with Laurel. You need to put on pants.”

 

“Hey Laurel,” Oliver says loudly from somewhere off camera. 

 

“Hey Ollie. How’s the trip?” Laurel calls loudly, hoping he can hear her. 

 

Oliver is then in shot too, grabbing a seat next to Felicity. “It’s good,” he says with a large grin. Laurel notices that the deep circles around his eyes have lifted, and his facial hair is longer, heading towards beard territory. “We’re in Vancouver at the moment. Did Felicity tell you we are going hiking tomorrow?” 

 

Felicity groans. “No. I didn’t tell her that,” she says reaching for her wine. 

 

Laurel laughs. “It’s be fun Felicity,” Laurel teases. “Just take a map with you. Pretty sure you’re phones GPS isn’t going to work in the Mountains.” 

 

“Ok, we’ve got to go,”Felicity says, “Dinner is getting cold. But say hi to Thea, Digg, Lyla and Sara won’t you?” 

 

Laurel smiles. “Of course. Wait until you see Sara! She’s grown so much.” 

 

“Really?” Felicity says excitedly. “Tell Digg to send more pictures.” 

 

“Only if Ollie gets one of you hiking an _actual_ mountain.” 

 

Oliver laughs and Felicity shoves him off the stool. “Dish up dinner already!” 

 

Oliver ducks his head back into shot. “Bye Laurel,” he grins. 

 

She gives him a wave. “See you Ollie.” 

 

“Let me know how you go with the database,” Felicity says, “If there is still problems tomorrow I can have another look remotely. And,” she lowers her voice, “let me know how things go with Barry and Co.”

 

Laurel nods. “Yeah, I will. Soon as I talk to them.” 

 

Felicity smiles appreciatively. “Thanks Laurel.”

 

** \- - - **

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Thanks again for the kind words! You guys rock! Such a friendly fandom to write for! If you've read the first couple of chapters and enjoyed them, please leave me a comment on Chapter Three!


	4. Four: Team Arrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyla and Diggle uncover new information about the League, and Diggle makes a step towards repairing his friendship with Oliver. Meanwhile, Felicity and Oliver enjoy date night and its rocky revelations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hi everyone! Thanks for the wonderful comments and kudos that have been coming through over the past few weeks. I really appreciate all your support and I am glad that you are enjoying the story. 
> 
> I have rewritten this chapter about ten times now trying to work out the best way to work through some of my speculations for season 4. I really wanted to bring Team Flash into the story, but I realised that it would totally blow out my 5 chapter plan. So, unfortunately, there is no actual Team Flash face time. That’s not to say that I am not deeply curious on their take of Oliver/Felicity’s relationship, I just couldn’t make it work.
> 
> As always, please leave a comment. Never under-estimate how much they help. If it wasn’t for a couple of suggestions from some wonderful readers, some of this chapter wouldn’t have occurred. 
> 
> This chapter is quite long and is different to the rest. I hope you still enjoy.

 

 W H E R E V E R  Y O U  A R E

CHAPTER FOUR: TEAM ARROW

 

Diggle isn't going to make it. The traffic is gridlocked with roads in and out of the CBD closed for the StaringCity Summer Street Party and there is no way he can safety and discretely make his way through the chaos tracking the latest scumbag on the vigilante club agenda. The pavements are lined with pedestrians and a sea of Lance’s cops who wouldn’t hesitate to arrest him if he jumped the gutter and sped off after Doyle through the tight knit crowd. The team needed proof of Doyle’s involvement in the latest spade of young women disappearing from the Glades before Lance would even consider listening to them, which right now makes their law enforcement allies little help.

 

Digg is pissed. He pulls the bike to a stop beside a car load of teens munching on Big Belly Burger, windows down, their radios blasting. He frowns and hits the comms on the side of his helmet and flips up the visor. 

 

“Harbinger, please tell me you have eyes on Doyle? I’m gridlocked.” Digg’s voice is full of desperation and it forces a frown onto Lyla’s face.

 

“Nada, Freelancer,” she says, her fingers moving frantically across the keyboard back at the loft.“He must have found the tracker because his signal died about thirty seconds ago. I’m trying to pick him up on the street cams but the system is working over time and my hacking skills leave a lot to be desired to reroute and speed up this amount of searches…” she sighs, and leans back in her chair scratching her head. “Canary how about you?”

 

“Nothing,” Laurel says dejectedly looking up from the tracking program on her phone that went dead a couple of minutes before. She adjusts her crouched footing on the roof of City Hall and gazes down over the street party and thousands of partygoers. “I’ve lost him too. We have to get some better trackers, this isn’t the first time they’ve let us down.” 

 

“No offence,” comes Thea’s voice through the comms, and with it the pounding of dance music from the new Friday night DJ at Verdant. “It’s not the tech. It’s us. We can kick these guys asses but even with Harbinger - who is amazing - we’re working blind.” 

 

“Speedy,” says Laurel, getting to her feet and jumping the two foot from the ledge back to the roof. She’s done and heading back inside. “What are you doing?” 

 

“I got bored,” Thea says earnestly, stacking glasses onto her tray at the bar. “The douchebag quota is high tonight.” 

 

Lyla and Laurel both laugh but Digg sighs and pulls the helmet off scanning the street around him. “Speedy, it’s your night off. There’s nothing you can do from where you are.”

 

“I appreciate the complement,” Lyla says, getting up from her chair and stretching, “but she’s not wrong about working blind. Doyle has gone dark on us. Freelancer, head back to base and we’ll regroup.”

 

“I’ll meet you there,” Laurel says, already heading down the stairs that lead from the roof to a maintenance corridor to change. She was just lucky she’d been finalising paperwork at the DA’s office across the street when the call came through from Digg that Doyle was on the move. 

 

“Don’t you have plans?” Lyla prompts, grabbing for her coffee on the desk beside her keyboard. 

 

Laurel’s footfalls slow. Damn, she’d almost forgotten she’d finally locked in a dinner date with Ted and she’d even confirmed again with him via text less than a hour ago. Laurel groans. She _was_ going to grab some dinner with Ted but that was before the night went to hell with their lead. 

 

From the street Digg takes this moment to kill the engine on the bike and take a breather. The traffic isn’t going anywhere anytime soon and neither is he. There is a beat of silence on the comms and then the music from verdant comes through. 

 

“Canary do you have a hot date?” Thea asks incredulously, her tray of glasses handed off to one of the bartenders and she snakes around the bar and to the stairs to head to her office. 

 

“I can reschedule,” Laurel says quickly. “Help run the facial recognition through Orchid Bay…see if we can pick him up leaving the CBD…” 

 

“Canary, you are not cancelling your date,” Lyla says firmly. 

 

“I second that,” Thea says, her voice now clearer from the confines of her office as she throws her tired body down on the plush sofa she’d brought for the office now she was leading a double life. 

 

“I can’t believe I am weighing in on this,” Digg says pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers, “because we talked about using the comms for work only - but, Canary, don’t cancel your date. Tonight’s a bust. Harbinger and I will work through the street cams and try to tracking down Doyle. Speedy, what time are you due back to base?” 

 

Thea closes her eyes, her arms stretched out above her head. “Hopefully no later than eleven. I’m actually interviewing for a new duty manager tonight but once that’s done I’m going to bail. It’s been one of those weeks…” 

 

“Canary, Speedy…we got this,” Lyla says confidently. “Do what you have to do and we’ll see you later.” 

 

“Sounds like a plan. Good luck Canary! Speedy out,” Thea says and with a click she is gone. 

 

“I’m sorry Canary, I was trying to be discrete,” Lyla says. 

 

“It’s okay,” Laurel says with a smile. “I will see you guys later. Canary out,” And just like Thea, Laurel drops off the comms. 

 

Lyla pulls her chair in closer to the desk and flicks up a map of the CBD. The traffic is still condensed to the streets surrounding City Hall, but down by Shaw Avenue the traffic is moving well. “So, I’ve just checked and the street arounds Big Belly have reopened,” Lyla says. “And Sara and I are a bit peckish.”

 

Digg smiles. “Bacon with the lot?” He asks pulling on his helmet and starting the bike. If he heads back the way he came he can get out of the CBD relatively quickly and back to the loft. 

 

“Like you have to ask.” 

 

“See you in twenty. Freelancer out.” Digg says carefully starting the journey back out of the maze of cars and towards Big Belly Burger.

 

\- - -

 

If Felicity is totally honest, her and Oliver have not had any where near the number of evening date nights out they should have given their leisure status. Sure, they’ve had breakfasts and lunches out at both hole in the wall cafes and excellently rated restaurants Felicity has found online, but dinners have been pretty exceptionally low key over the past few weeks. 

 

And she knows it comes down to their now quite domesticated status of ordering in, grabbing a couple bottles of wine and either falling asleep watching a movie she’s queued up on Netflix (Oliver quite honestly had a lot to catch up on given the last eight years of chaos), climbing into a nice spa bath which is an item that continually finds itself on their must have list for accommodation, or quite frankly skipping dinner entirely and hitting the sheets of their luxury bed instead. 

 

So when Oliver had insisted they finally take advantage of the amazing rooftop restaurant and bar of their hotel, Felicity had relished the opportunity to throw on the slinky gold lace dress she hadn’t worn since The Dodger fiasco and that she’d packed figuring if they now were making a new life, this gorgeous dress could have one too. And it was definitely a decision she didn't regret when Oliver had stalked into the bedroom to see how much longer she was going to be and his jaw nearly hit the floor. 

 

“I cannot tell you how much I have missed your short dresses,” he almost pants, striding across the room towards her. 

 

Felicity laughs her fingers skimming across the hem of her dress self consciously as he approaches. It’s true, her short dresses have been in retirement for the past couple of months. Its been a more casual affair of denim shorts, tanks and comfortable yet fashionable knee length cotton skirts perfectly for the summer heat and just the right length to stop any potential thigh sunburn in the porche. “I swear this dress used to be longer.” 

 

Oliver grins, wrapping his arms around her waist and leaning forward for a kiss, which is made easier than usual given her sky high black strappy heels. “It didn’t. Trust me,” he says with a wink. “I noticed. You look incredible.”  

 

“Is it too short?” She asks as Oliver releases her and reaches behind her on the bed to collect her purse. 

 

“No, it’s perfect.” 

 

She laughs, flicking her long straightened hair over her left shoulder. “You don’t look too shabby yourself,” she says, stepping forward to straighten the black tie against his white shirt and light grey suit. “Hot date?” she asks cocking her head. 

 

He smiles. “Very hot date,” he says handing her the purse. 

 

“Let me guess,” she teases smacking her bright pink lips together, “a blonde?” 

 

“A bottle blonde,” he says cheekily, and it earns him a swat from Felicity. 

 

“Watch it,” she says opening the purse to check she’d packed everything. “Loose lips sink ships. That’s a Smoak family secret you are mocking there.” 

 

Oliver laughs. “Your mom insists she’s a natural blonde,” he says dryly, “she told me at length over the breakfast mimosas while you were nursing that nasty-“ Felicity looks up with a glare, “ _stomach flu,_ after our night out at the Bellagio.” 

 

Felicity rolls her eyes. “Course she did,” she says, snapping the clasp closed on her purse and smiling at him. “That sounds like Donna. And speaking of Donna…” Felicity holds up the phone she’d fished out of her purse. “She and Thea will kill me if I don’t send her a photo of us all dressed up. Come here.” 

 

Oliver agrees and takes the phone from Felicity’s, snapping a couple of photos of them laughing and posing, and then grabs a couple of them kissing to set as his phone background tomorrow. Felicity quickly texts them off to Donna and Thea, and then slips her phone into her purse, tucks it under her arm and reaches for Oliver’s hand. 

 

“I’m starving,” she says, as they head through their suite to the door. 

 

Oliver smiles as he holds the door open for her and she steps through. He locks it behind him and follows her down the hallway a couple of steps behind. When they climb inside the elevator, Felicity realises he’s grinning like an idiot. 

 

“You were staring at my ass weren’t you?” 

 

He laughs and encases his hand with hers. “Yes. Very much yes.” 

 

She reaches over to thumb her lipstick off his lips. “Incorrigible.” 

 

\- - -

 

The night does not get any better for Digg, when he arrives at Thea’s with a bag of Big Belly Burger to find a frustrated Lyla with a cranky and teething baby Sara strapped to her chest in a magenta coloured baby sling. 

 

“Thank god,” Lyla practically howls as Digg enters with food. “I’m still running Doyle through facial recognition across all the security cameras in Orchid Bay, and I’m monitoring his place in South End to see if he’s return yet.” Digg made to speak but was cut off abruptly. “I have nothing,” she says disappointedly as she bobs up and down at her spot in front of the computers, her knees gently swaying to the humming she’s doing to try and sooth Sara.

 

Digg shrugs out of his jacket and throws it over the back of his chair. He makes his way over to Lyla at the bank of computers he has a hard time not thinking of as ‘Felicity’s desk’, because even though she is yet to work in the new lair, old habits die hard.

 

 Thea’s done a great job of pulling together a new lair for the team based around their collective and multiple needs. Digg, Thea and Laurel each have their own long stainless steal work bench and drawer unit, for cleaning and storing weapons and their suits, and a tall, high backed work chair. There is a forth uncluttered and mostly unclaimed workspace which everyone knows belongs to Oliver even if Thea hasn’t actually said that out-loud. His trunk from the Island and a couple of other pieces of Arrow memorabilia Laurel had been able to convince Lance were non-essential evidence are kept underneath; stored but out of plain sight. Digg’s come to realise even though it sets him a bit on edge when he looks at the space given his still harboured anger to his best friend, it helps Thea, and right now, her needs are greater than his.  

 

Between their workstations and ‘Felicity’s desk’ is a large padded mat area, much like their sparing area from the Arrow Cave for training. And to the side of it all, near the large glass windows so she can almost fall asleep under the stars, Thea had build a nursery for Baby Sara, including a change table, comfortable cot and a playpen. Sure, Digg had to admit it is a bat shit crazy idea having a nursery in this space, but it is secure for Sara, keeps her away from any weapons or sharp objects, and affords both Lyla and Digg a place to bring Sara that’s her home away from home.

 

John places the bag of Big Belly Burger down next to Lyla’s keyboard and his hand finds the small of Lyla’s back. “You okay?” he asks, brushing his lips against her ear and giving her a soft kiss. 

 

She sighs, and he knows she’s annoyed at herself for losing Doyle and feels guilty that their ten month old daughter is teething in what is essentially a weapons bunker. “I’m okay. Thank you for bringing dinner,” she says kissing him back softly. 

 

He smiles. He gently cups the back of Sara’s head, whose small tired little eyes look up at him, her pacifier twitching in her mouth. “Hey baby girl,” he says in a low voice, running his hand through her short black hair, “are you giving Mommy a hard time?” 

 

“She’s still trying to cut that tooth on the top,” Lyla says. “She’s been pretty good all night, was out for hours but the pain relief must have worn off. I can’t give her anymore for a while yet.” 

 

Digg gives Lyla a sympathetic smile. “Do you want me to take her for a bit? Give you a chance to eat your burger?” He looks down at Sara. “I’m not as good at lullabies as Mommy, but how about some John Legend?” 

 

Lyla laughs and Digg helps her pull Sara free from the sling. She hands him the pink plaid blanket from her chair and he wraps her up in it, curling her little body into his chest soothingly. Sara grizzles for a moment or two while Lyla pulls another chair over to the computers and fetches two plates from Thea’s kitchen for their dinner. But Sara settles again when Lyla sits down beside John, dishes their burgers up on the plates and stretches her tired legs up on the desk. 

 

“Remember when date night used to be dinner, wine and sexy lingerie?” Lyla says with a smile, watching as Sara turns her head in her direction and watches her eat. 

 

Digg chuckles lowly as he shoves two long french fries into his mouth. He sighs dramatically. “I do. When can we do that again?” 

 

“Probably in six to eight months,” Lyla teases, sipping on her cup of cola. “Longer if Felicity and Oliver don’t make their way back soon.” 

 

“Excellent,” Digg says with a wide grin. “I look forward to it.”

 

Lyla laughs and they continue to eat and make small talk reminiscing on all the things they secretly miss but don’t for a second regret giving up for their beautiful little human. Sara’s eye eventually close, the only sound now coming from her lips is the soft sucking of her pacifier. 

 

By the time dinner is done it is only 9pm, and still relatively early by their standards. They agree to wait until Thea comes homes just in case anything happens as the Street Party ends and the thousands of Starling City residents embark on their journey home. Lyla cleans up their plates and fast food wrappers while Digg, after ensuring Sara is truly asleep, tucks her back into her cot.

 

Digg then washes up, changes out of the bike leathers and into a pair of sweats, and makes his way back to Lyla at the computer station. “Anything?” he asks, sitting down beside her again and pulling his chair closer to get a look at the screen. 

 

Lyla shakes her head solemnly, her head propped up by one hand on the desk. “No.” 

 

“We’ll get something,” he says confidently, but he finds it odd that he has to say anything at all. Usually Lyla is the confident optimist one. But something in the time between him logging off the comms in Orchid Bay and making it back to the lair has totally thrown her.

 

“Are you okay?” he asks his hand taking hers. 

 

Lyla sucks in a deep breathe and flicks up her email on the fourth screen; the screen closest to Digg. She sits back in her chair. 

 

“I got some intel tonight from an old A.R.G.U.S agent who used to be stationed in the Middle East and who I still trade intel with. At the moment my intel is a little light on the ground given on administrative leave, but he’s been doing some work in China as a f _reelancer_.”

 

“He’s a mercenary?” Digg asks more out of courtesy instead of confirmation. 

 

She nods. “Yes Johnny.” 

 

He frowns. The whole things feels too ominous for his liking. Digg leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his fingers formed into a peak and resting on his chin. “Ok, what does your mystery mercenary have to say?” 

 

“Sara Lance is alive,” she says in a quiet voice, like saying it any louder would make her totally crazy. And frankly, until Digg also looks at the photo she has, Lyla’s not entirely convinced she isn’t crazy. 

 

Digg sucks in a short breath. “What? She can’t be. We buried her.” 

 

“There is proof she’s alive…and with the League…” Lyla says and opens the photo that had been attached to the email. 

 

It springs open on the screen and then suddenly, yes, Sara is definitely alive. The bile rises in the back of Digg’s throat almost instantly at the sight of Sara Lance dressed in League attire seated at a table with Nyssa Al Ghul and Malcolm Merlyn - who to Digg’s surprise is wearing the long flowing robes of Ra’s Al Ghul.

 

“That son of a bitch,” Digg says breathlessly. “Merlyn brought her back. She’s been dead for nearly a year and Merlyn drops her into the Lazarus Pit.” 

 

Lyla’s brow knits together. “Merlyn? I thought Sara was with Nyssa?”

 

“She was; but Nyssa would never have done this herself. Sure she’s ruthless and cunning but this is just pure…” he looks at Lyla sadly. “It’s just pure evil. And that means one thing, Malcom Merlyn.” 

 

Lyla studies the photo again, flicking her mouse to zoom in on Malcolm’s hand that hovers on the sword at his side. “Is that what I think it is?” 

 

Digg nods. “That’s Ra’s ring.” 

 

“Doesn’t that belong to Oliver? Isn’t he the new Ra’s?” 

 

Digg frowns. “I guess not,” he says. He gets to his feet and heads into Thea’s kitchen. He comes back with a bottle of Oliver’s scotch and a short glass. 

 

Lyla swivels around on her chair to face Digg and he pours the scotch into the glass. “You wanna fill in the blanks for me? I assumed that Nyssa, given she _married_ Oliver, would be Oliver’s representative at the League.” 

 

“I guess Oliver’s just as keen to deny the union as much as Nyssa is,” he says bitingly. Digg sips from the scotch glass and leans his hip on the table. He sighs, catching his anger and trying to redirect it. Oliver couldn’t have foreseen this. There is no way in hell, even after everything with Thea, he’d ever allow this to happen to Sara. Or to Laurel. “I don’t have a lot to fill in,” Digg says evenly, “Oliver and I aren’t exactly on the best of terms, remember?” 

 

Lyla frowns. “Johnny, Oliver’s made a concerted effort to fix that. Repeatedly,” she says in a tired voice. But she too, knowing this isn’t the time or place right now to push it, redirects their conversation back to the crucible at hand. “So you think Oliver made Merlyn Ra’s? Why? As payment for his help with the League?” 

 

Digg considers it. “Not payment. Oliver doesn’t work like that. Knowing Merlyn, it would have been the condition of his help. I mean I thought it was Thea…but this doesn’t surprise me at all. Merlyn would have helped Oliver defeat Ra’s, and knowing Oliver had no desire to lead the League of Assassins himself, then Malcom Merlyn would have proposed to take his place.” 

 

“Poor Nyssa,” Lyla says with a sigh. “And poor Sara. If what you are saying is true, she’s been nothing but a pawn. Merlyn murdered her to draw Ra’s out and elicit this whole war between him and Oliver, just so he could take over the League? And now to win over Ra’s daughter he brings her back from the dead?” Lyla reaches for the scotch glass and takes it out of Digg’s hands. She takes a sip and then she gets to her feet and pulls him into a hug. 

 

“I’m sorry you have to go through this Johnny,” Lyla says softly, her hands cupping his face.

 

Digg sighs and pulls Lyla into his embrace, his chin resting on the top of her head. “I have to call Oliver don’t I?”

 

\- - -

 

“So, where to next?” Felicity asks, digging her spoon into the brilliantly large piece of espresso cheesecake she’s ordered for dessert. Her movement is measured and thoughtful knowing if she takes smaller bites she can savour the decadent dessert longer. 

 

Oliver smiles as she eats her spoonful. “You’re ready to leave Vancouver already?”

 

Felicity shrugs and hands him her spoon. She knows he’s not really a dessert kind of guy, unless its a pint of mint choc chip ice cream, but the cheesecake is amazing and she wants to make sure he tastes it. 

 

“No, not necessarily. But we’ve been here a few days and apart from more hiking-” she raises her finger as Oliver chuckles and spoons his own chunk of cheesecake, “which we are not doing after the disaster three days ago - we’ve throughly explored Vancouver.” 

 

“It wasn’t a disaster,” Oliver says evenly eating the cheesecake. 

 

Felicity cocks her eyebrow at him. “It was mortifying. I’m terrified of snakes.” 

 

“Good thing it wasn’t a snake you saw then.” Oliver’s lips curve into a smile and Felicity who is sitting beside him at the table captures his jaw between the thumb and index finger. “Not funny,” she says scrunching her nose at him. 

 

Oliver laughs and curls his fingers around her wrist, which he then kisses the inside of tenderly. “It’s a little bit funny,” he says, handing her back the spoon. 

 

Felicity places the spoon on the table and leans over to kiss him softly. He tastes like cheesecake and scotch and maybe its the four glasses of red wine, or maybe its the fact its been a long time since she’s seen that grey suit and it looks absolutely fantastic, but Felicity sudden doesn’t feel like finishing dessert anymore.

 

“Let’s call it a night,” she says.  

 

Oliver flags down their bill while Felicity finishes her glass of wine, and then less than five minutes later they are in the elevator and heading back to their suite. They walk the hallway, Felicity slightly unsteady after all the wine and her high heels, so Oliver suavely moves closer, his hand resting on the small of her back as she chats, complementing the restaurant and laughing at the replies she received from Thea and her mother on the photo they took earlier. Donna’s message is openly explicit, which Felicity would normally find mortifying, but given how uncomfortable it makes Oliver she teases him by reading it aloud anyway. 

 

Felicity is still looking at the screen of her phone as they make it to the door and it isn’t until Oliver gently prizes it from her fingers and pockets it that she looks up and grins at him, curling her arms around his neck.

“Thank you for dinner,” she says, trying to suppress a grin by sucking her bottom lip in between her teeth.“I had a lovely time.” 

 

“Oh really?” Oliver laughs, snaking one arm around her waist, as he attempts to unlock the door with their room key. “What was your favourite part?” he murmurs in her ear. 

 

Felicity beams. “Definitely the sex we’re about to have.” 

 

“That’s rather presumptuous,” he says, swinging the door open. 

 

“Is it?” Felicity asks and seconds later she’s boosted into Oliver’s arms with a squeal and the door is closing behind them with a loud thud.

 

Oliver walks them into the kitchen and towards the kitchen bench where he releases her, pulled her against him, his hands cupping her face, his lips entangled with hers as Felicity begins pushing the jacket off his shoulders. Oliver shrugs out of his jacket and breaks their kiss momentarily to throw it into the floor. He beams at her kiss swollen lips and she rolls her eyes, stepping towards him, backing him up against the cupboards on the other side of the kitchen. “Not presumptuous at all,” she says reaching up to loosen his tie, her body pressed against his, before she pulls his lips down to hers. 

 

She sighs as Oliver’s lips move from hers, across her jaw and down her neck. And that’s when the silence of their apartment is interrupted by sound of Oliver’s phone ringing in his back pocket. He groans, his eyes squeezed shut for a moment. 

 

“Just ignore it,” he says, pulling it out of his pocket and sliding it across the bench without looking at the screen. He tries to kiss Felicity again, his hands in the back of her hair, but she’s already reached for the phone. “It’s John,” she says surprised. 

 

Oliver reaches for the phone and grimaces at the screen. Felicity squeezes his hand. “Answer it,” she encourages, her lips brushing against his cheek. Oliver sighs, connects the call and reluctantly lifts the phone to his ear. 

 

“John, how are you?” 

 

In the quiet room, Felicity can hear Digg’s reply on the other end. 

 

“Hey man. Is this a good time?” 

 

Oliver gives Felicity a lopsided smile. Its terrible timing, but the fact that Digg is finally calling him after weeks of ignoring texts and email trumps that. “Sure,” Oliver says, folding an arm against his chest and resting his hip against the kitchen bench. “What’s going on?” 

 

“Is Felicity there too?”

 

Oliver pulls the phone away from his ear and flicks it onto speaker. 

 

“Hi John,” Felicity says, saddling in close to Oliver. “Everything okay?” 

 

“I’m calling with news,” Digg begins. “A contact of Lyla’s has uncovered some information about the League.”

 

Oliver scratches his head knowing his deal with Malcom is about to be uncovered and while he definitely hadn’t told Digg…he also hasn’t mentioned it to Felicity yet, fearing it will dissolve into a horrible fight he really doesn’t want to have when they have been both so happy. “Listen Digg-”

 

“Sara Lance is alive,” Digg says, “and by alive, I mean _resurrected_.” 

 

For a brief moment, Felicity thinks both of their hearts might have stopped.

 

“Guys?” Digg says after an uncomfortable amount of silence.

 

“We’re here,” Felicity says, resting her hand against Oliver’s on the bench. 

 

Oliver clears his throat. “How good is your intel?” 

 

“The guy is former A.R.G.U.S so you know, there is a possibility it could be bullshit, but I’ve got to go with my gut on this one. We’ve got a photograph of Sara in League attire that is date stamped two weeks ago; We ran it and it’s legit.” 

 

Felicity looks at Oliver. “What the hell is Nyssa doing?” she asks him, hoping that the semblance of friendship they seemed to foster while going through a League wedding and trying to defeat her father means he has some insight into Nyssa they don’t. 

 

“It’s not Nyssa,” Oliver says evenly running a hand through his hair. 

 

Felicity’s brow knits in confusion and she folds her arms against her chest, her gaze demanding answers. 

 

Oliver exhales loudly and squeezed his eyes shut. He’s mostly hoping if he keeps calm, he can defuse what is about to happen. Back in Starling City, Digg hopes he can get through the next few minutes without witnessing a complete meltdown between his best friends and their newly minted relationship.

 

“What do you mean it’s not Nyssa? She’s in charge of the League in your absence,” Felicity says calmly, and Digg has got to give her props, because if this conversation was taking place three to six months ago, Oliver would be a deadman walking. 

 

Oliver frowns squaring his jaw. “Nyssa is not in charge of the League. Malcolm Merlyn is.” 

 

Digg and Felicity both react at the same time. 

 

“Bad choice man,” says Digg before Felicity drowns hm out. 

 

“Please tell me your joking?” Felicity demands, taking a step back from Oliver. “Oliver? Please tell me you did not make _another_ deal with Malcolm Merlyn.” 

 

“It’s not another deal Felicity, it’s the same one. If Malcolm helped me to defeat Ra’s, I agreed he could take my place as Ra’s Al Ghul. Nyssa did not support my decision.” Oliver sighs heavily, suddenly exhausted by the news that someone he loved so dearly, who he had mourned, whose death he had lied about for the best part of the year, had suffered a fate worse than death. “He must have brought Sara back to win her favour.”

 

Felicity leans her back against bench, her shoulders sagging and closes her eyes. “I can’t believe you didn't tell me Oliver,” she says in a low hurt voice that shoots a pang of pain right through Oliver’s gut. 

 

“Son of a bitch,” Digg says. 

 

“Are you talking about me or Merlyn?” Oliver enquires. 

 

There is a beat of silence from Digg. “Merlyn. But for the record, I’m not exactly thrilled with you either Oliver.” 

 

“Noted,” Oliver says his voice steady, but his actions are anything but and he walks out of the dark kitchen and into the dark lounge where he lowers himself heavily into the plush charcoal colour sofa, and drops his head into his hands. 

 

Felicity reaches for Oliver’s phone and turns it off speaker. “John, it’s Felicity.” 

 

“Is he okay?” Digg asks. 

 

Felicity frowns and flips on the kitchen light. “Remains to be see,” she says. “Did Lyla’s contact have any information about Sara? Is she okay? I mean, I’m going to assume that no, she’s not okay, she’s been dead for so long…I mean Thea was only gone for an hour or two and-” The strangled groan Oliver makes from the couch forces Felicity to close her mouth. “Sorry.” 

 

“I’m sorry, I don’t have any more information,” Digg says. “I wish I did.” 

 

“Do Thea and Laurel know?” 

 

“No. I wanted to tell you both first.”

 

Felicity nods and frowns. “This is going to rip both Laurel and Thea apart.” 

 

“What do we do now?” Digg asks. 

 

Felicity looks up at the ceiling. “I honestly have no idea.” She looks over at Oliver who hasn’t moved. “Listen, I’ve got to go. Say hi to everyone for us.” 

 

“I will. Felicity?” 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“Don’t be too hard on him okay?” 

 

Felicity smiles. “Bye John.”

 

“Bye.” 

 

Felicity disconnects and places Oliver’s phone down on the bench. She toes off her high strappy heels and heads into the lounge room where she climbs into Oliver’s lap, her knees falling either side of his. She gently kisses the top of his head, her arms around his neck. 

 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Malcom,” he says, lifting his chin and looking up at her through his long blonde eyelashes. Felicity finds herself giving him a small smile.

 

“I’m really angry Oliver,” she says, and he frowns. “But not at you.” She brushes her fingertips against cheek. “Are you okay?” 

 

He shakes his head. “Not really. Are you?” 

 

she shakes her head. “Not in the slightest.” Felicity exhales deeply and rolls her body onto the sofa, crawling into the pillows abutted against Oliver. She settles her feet in his lap, one hand resting tenderly on his thigh. “Do you think any part of her is still our Sara?” 

 

“I honestly don’t know,” Oliver says, his voice barely a whisper and she recognises that look in his eye.

 

Felicity sits up. “Oliver,” she says, and he meet her eye. “This is not your fault. If you go into a broody meltdown-”

 

He clears his throat. “I know,” he says. “I just thought we’d have more time.” 

 

“More time?” 

 

He nods. “Before the ‘wolves descended’ again.”

 

Felicity kisses him softly. “I could comfort eat the rest of that cheesecake about now,” she says and Oliver smiles. Felicity gets to her feet and holds out her hand to him. “Let’s talk about this tomorrow. I really just want to go to bed.” 

 

 - - - 


	5. Chapter Five: The Long Way Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FINAL CHAPTER: Felicity and Oliver return to Starling with news of Sara and the League.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Here it is, finally! The last chapter! Thanks for all the wonderful comments and support! See you 'round!

** W H E R E V E R Y O U A R E **

CHAPTER FIVE: THE LONG WAY HOME

 

THE NEXT DAY.

"… I'm only bringing you coffee because coffee and crises are what we do," Felicity says, the charcoal takeaway cup held outstretched to Oliver, her lips pursed to suppress the smile that's tugging at the corners of her mouth. She jiggles the cup a little impatiently as he looks up from his phone screen and takes a couple of seconds to process what she has just said. Then his troubled face (he'd been speaking to Diggle only minutes ago and Felicity knows _that_ conversation wasn't exactly an easy one), relaxes and he flashes her a genuinely grateful grin.

"Thanks," he says warmly, accepting the cup and with his free hand pats the buttery soft black leather of the Ferris Air business lounge sofa beside him, encouraging her to sit. 

There are three leather armchairs in their immediate vicinity but he wants her to sit beside him, and when she shakes her head a little, clutching her stupidly huge cup of coffee and murmurs, "need to burn off some of this anxious energy," she is genuinely touched that his face falls just a little as she starts to pace in front of him.

 She really wants nothing more right now than to sit beside him, his arm around her just hoping to all gods, _any god and Google,_ that when they get back to Starling this afternoon and relay the news about Sara, the tenuously string of composure Thea is barely holding onto doesn't snap and send all of them over the edge. 

And frankly, Felicity is a full blown panic attack on the inside at the moment, because from the very second they climbed into bed last night, all the heat and arousal from last night's date traded with the utter devastation of Diggle's news and Oliver's admission, she's been on high alert that she has to tell Oliver about the Palmer Tech job before they return to Starling. Because, honestly, if Oliver ever looks at her with the look of ruin and disappointment he reserves for judging his own actions and faults, then she's not going to be able to deal with the emotional repercussions of that. 

And okay, she's tried to tell him once already today, though admittedly she hasn’t tried particularly hard because she'd woken with Oliver's face pressed into her neck and hair, his soft breathing feathering across her bare skin and that look in his eye that just said they had to go home. 

Felicity had rolled her body closer to his, had cupped his face and had said without hesitation, “Let’s fly home today.”

They took it in turns to shower alone; something they'd only done on a handful of occasions since they'd left. While Oliver showered, Felicity had called Ferris Air to organise their earliest available flight back to Starling City today. And while she'd showered, he had organised transporting the Porche back to Thea with a freighting company. Then they'd dressed and packed what little they had into their two black suitcases, and Oliver's leather duffle, had grabbed a quick breakfast of coffee and eggs at the cafe across the road from their hotel, and had caught a cab to the airport.

Oliver cocks an eyebrow at Felicity, as he brings the coffee to his lips. It’s an unspoken rule between them _still_ \- Felicity never brings coffee. “Last time your brought me coffee…”

“I motivational speech’d you?” Felicity smiles, a finger tracing the rim of her plastic lid as she paces.

Oliver huffs a laugh, but doubt schools itself across the features of his face. “Yes.” He sighs and taps the side of the cup absentmindedly.“I think it might be time for one of those.” 

Felicity frowns and stills within arms distance directly in front of him. She pinches the bridge of her nose, squeezes her eyes shut and tries to collect some of the thoughts whizzing around in her head. “I’m not going to lie,” she says, her eyes flying open once she feels compose enough, “this is totally going to _suck_.”

She continues in a hushed whisper, cautious that even though they are the only people in the room at this point, anyone could appear at any moment, and what she is about to say isn't exactly sanitised for public ears. 

“You never told me or any of the others about your deal with Merlyn - and yes, okay, I might have suspected something, I mean all that crap about loving Thea…” her hand are now flailing about wildly, and while Oliver’s very conscious of the tirade coming from her lips, he’s also worried about the bucket of hot coffee that is threatening to be spilled with her erratic arm movements.

 “…was just that, total crap, because he played you Oliver. He played all of us. And I know you want nothing to do with the League of Assassins, you never have, and if you were still Ra’s then, okay, we wouldn’t be together,” she points at him and then herself, “ _I_ couldn’t allow us to be together, I mean they are a bunch of _Assassins_ Oliver and you don’t _kill_ people anymore…“ 

Before Felicity can comprehend his movements, Oliver is on his feet, he’s grabbed her cup of coffee with that ninja like prowess she’s used to, but still finds mildly surprising, placedthe cups on the nearby surface and runs his hands comfortingly from her elbows to her shoulders. “Hey,” he says calmly squeezing her shoulders, bending his knees a little so he can look her straight in the eye in her flat shoes, “it’s okay. Take a deep breath.” 

Felicity grimaces and pushes her glasses up her nose. She blows a breath out of the side of her mouth with exasperation. “I was panicking wasn’t I?” she groans. 

Oliver smiles comfortingly. “It wasn’t the calmest or clearest motivation speech I’ve heard you give.” 

Upset, Felicity scrunches her nose again and she steps into Oliver’s embrace, his arms enclosing around her protectively. He kisses the top of her head tenderly. Standing there, surrounded by him, being loved by him unconditionally, really puts things back into perspective.

“What I mean to say is that I get it,” she continues, “I get why you did what you did. And I get why you didn’t tell me. And, really I’m partially to blame - I never asked a question. I just assumed Nyssa was in charged as you _were_ married in the eyes of the league _.”_

Felicity tilts her up, her chin resting on her chest so she can see his face, but he doesn’t meet her eye, his gaze transfixed behind her. She pushes on anyway.

 “It doesn’t take a genius to realise that I didn’t want to know. It was a whole version of don’t ask, don’t tell, that I’m not wholly comfortable with, but I admit I had my part in it. Ugh, I’m rambling again. Oliver,” she says with weighty sigh, “this isn't your fault. You would never allow this to happen to Sara.” 

She blinks for a couple of moments, expecting him to look down at her, expecting him to smile, maybe press his lips against hers or sigh in relief that a) she’s shut up, and b) he’s forgiven; but that doesn’t happen. 

“Felicity,” Oliver says calmly, his eyes lowering to meet hers, “why are you on the news?” 

Felicity pulls out of Oliver’s embrace like she’s been electrocuted, her hands flying to cover her mouth as she turns to see her face on the television screen on the wall, with the words, “FORMER VP FELICITY SMOAK ANNOUNCED AS NEW PALMER TECH. CEO” running along the news ticker. 

“Holy frack,” she breathes, her hands moving from her mouth to her forehead where her brain feels like it is trying to escape from her scull. 

There is a couple of minutes of awkward silence between them, as the newsreaders’ report scroll across the silence screen in subtitles.

“…SMOAK, WHO WORKED CLOSELY WITH PHILANTHROPIST BUSINESSMAN AND SCIENTIST DR RAYMOND PALMER BEFORE HIS UNTIMELY DEATH IN AN EXPLOSION AT PALMER TECHNOLOGIES IN STARLING CITY IN MAY, WILL START HER NEW ROLE IN THE TOP JOB ON AUGUST 1ST. SMOAK, PREVIOUSLY WORKED AT QUEEN CONSOLIDATED WITH FORMER BILLIONAIRE PLAYBOY CEO OLIVER QUEEN, BEFORE QC WAS ACQUIRED BY DR PALMER LAST OCTOBER.” 

The live image of the newsreader and the Palmer Tech publicity photo Felicity had posed for last October when Ray had made her VP, fades away to be replaced with two different photographs. An old photo of her and Oliver climbing into a limo from over two years ago, his hand protectively on her arm, shielding her from a crowd of paparazzi outside what appeared to the former QC building, and a photo that she recognises from only a few weeks ago, taken from afar at a beach in Coast City, showing Felicity in a black bikini and Oliver in a pair of blue trunks, frolicking hand in hand in the shallow waves. Both of them drew in a sharp breath at the picture. 

“SMOAK, IS ALSO RUMOURED TO BE IN A ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP WITH HER FORMER BOSS OLIVER QUEEN, THE ONLY SURVIVOR OF A SHIPWRECK IN THE NORTH CHINA SEA EIGHT YEARS AGO THAT KILLED HIS FATHER, LEGENDARY MAGNATE ROBERT QUEEN, AND FIFTEEN CREW. IN OTHER NEWS…”

Felicity gaped at Oliver, completely horrified. “How is _that_ news?” she squeaks, sinking into the nearest armchair, burying her head in her hands. “I have a masters from MIT and I’m the CEO of a Fortune 500 company but I’m on the news in a _bikini_ with my _boyfriend_! I have never been more mortified in my life. Wait, we’re in Canada! Oh, who am I kidding, it’ll be all over the news at home too!”

Oliver runs a hand across his jaw thoughtfully. “Maybe it won’t hit home,” he says, trying to pull off an unperturbed shrug, but years of experience tell him he knows better than that. He gulps. “Or Vegas.” He closes his eyes for a moment and then looks at Felicity. “Dear god, Donna is going to squeal with delight so loud that we’re publicly a couple down the phoneline I’m going to go deaf-” he says, the glare from Felicity cutting him off. “Did you know?” 

Felicity nods, her lower lip sucked between her teeth. “Yes. It was meant to be embargoed until I told you but I guess someone, and I think I know exactly who in the publicity department, must have leaked it. They are _so fired_.” 

Oliver sucks in a deep breath, clasps his hands together and runs them from his jaw, up the side of his face to his forehead, where they sit on top of his head. He tilts his head to the roof of the lounge trying to find the rights words. 

Felicity frowns. “Say something,” she urges desperately. “Anything.” 

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” he says simply, and Felicity opens her mouth to throw words back at him almost instantly, but Oliver beats her to it. “I am so proud of you,” he grins. 

Felicity promptly clamps her mouth shut, her eyes wide with surprise. “Wait…” she cocks her head at him, “What?”

Oliver grins at her. “You are incredible at what you do Felicity. You deserve that promotion. I am very proud of you.” 

Felicity suddenly feels breathless. “You mean it?” she melts.

Oliver nods and strides towards her. “Yes,” he says, leaning down to press his lips to hers, his hands on the arms of the chair for balance. “Yes, of course I do,” he says, resting his forehead against hers. 

Felicity beams at him. “Oh thank god.”

Oliver kisses her again softly, and then pulls Felicity to her feet so he can hug her again, pulling her off the floor.“There is more,” she tells him, “Ray left me his company. I’m not just CEO. He transferred ownership of the entire company to me months ago and I didn’t know until after the explosion.” 

Oliver’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Ray _gave_ you Palmer Tech months ago?” 

Felicity nods. “I got tricked into it,” she admits, a crease falling across her eyebrows, “It happened a couple of weeks after we’d left you in Nanda Parbat. I was so sad, I missed you so much, and Thea was just devastated, and I couldn’t even think straight. I kept playing it over and over again that I shouldn’t have left you and it was just consuming me. And Ray was nice to me about you even though I’d just crushed him. And I was distracted. And I signed something I didn’t read, because I trusted him.”

“You were so upset you’d lost me, you didn’t realise your ex-boyfriend gave you his billion dollar company?” 

Felicity had to admit, it didn’t sound particularly well-mannered of her. She nods.

“And that’s why you think Ray is still alive?” 

Felicity gave him a small smile. “Yes. He planned it weeks before we went to Nanda Parbat. The suit was flying perfectly thanks to help from S.T.A.R Labs, and then he came back and had me sign the papers. Does that sound particularly above board to you? Like maybe he was trying to disappear?” 

Oliver gives her a lopsided grin. “It sounds like something I would do.” 

Felicity rolls her eyes. “Don’t I know it Mr-here’s-2-million-dollars,-look-after-QC,-I’m-going-to-live-on-Lian-Yu-for-a-few-months? Oliver, your biggest complaint about running QC was that you never had an MBA. You realise I don’t either right?” 

Oliver kisses her forehead. “The difference between you and me Felicity is, you’re a genius. You don’t need an MBA to run Palmer Tech. I was a multiple Ivy league dropout who had ruined more than my fair share of braincells with drink, drugs or blows to the head. Business was never my forte; it was my cover story. That’s why I always trusted you with QC. And why Ray trusted you to leave you his company.”

She smiles, and reaches up to cup his face. “I am sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.” 

Oliver smiles back at her. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Merlyn.” 

“To be fair,” Felicity says, “if you'd turned up on my doorstep with the Porche and had told me about the League and Merlyn from day one, I probably would have throttled you.”

“And now?” he asks, almost cheekily. 

“And now,” she breathes, “I just want to go home to Starling, and start a life with you.”

“That’s funny,” Oliver says, “I just want to go home to Starling and start a life with _you_.”

Felicity smiles. “And how does your bow and arrow fit into this equation?” 

Oliver cocks his head at her. “Do you think Thea will let me join her Vigilante Club?” he asks hopefully. 

Felicity smiles sweetly at him. “I think Thea will. But it’s a democracy these days. Laurel and Digg have to sign off as well.” 

Oliver sighs. “And I don’t know how that’s going to go. Between you and me, The Arrow was a bit of a dick.” Felicity laughs, which prompts Oliver to frown. “It was me that was the dick wasn’t it?” 

She nods. “Just a little.” 

“You’re sugarcoating it,” he says.

“Yep,” she says, popping the ‘p’ sound on the end of the word. Felicity leans up on her tiptoes to kiss him softly. “You know I’m already back on the team right?”

“Put in a good word for me?” 

She laughs. “I’ll take that under consideration and see what I can do.”  

 

\- - -

“Did you notice there are only five cars downstairs? In a fifteen car lot.” Oliver murmurs as they climb the stairs from the parking garage to Thea’s third floor loft. He stops on the landing between the second and third floor, a suitcase in each hand, “The van, Lyla’s Explorer, Laurel’s Prius, a suspiciously new extravagant Lexus which has Thea Queen written all over it, and the Mini Cooper. Where are Thea’s neighbours?” 

Felicity smiles at Oliver adjusting the strap on his duffle bag she had slung over her shoulder. “At work?” she offers. “The garage never seemed particularly full when I visited Thea while you were away.” 

Oliver smiles at Felicity with a lopsided grin. 

“What?” she asks self consciously. 

“Thank you for that,” he says. 

She rolls her eyes. “You’ve thanked me a 100 times. Will you cut it with the sappy stuff and haul that bag upstairs. I need a shower,” she says, stalking up the last flight of stairs. 

When she realises he isn’t following her, she turns to look down the staircase to him still on the landing, grinning from ear to ear. “What now?” she asks, hands on hips.

“I just realised that I haven’t christened my bed at the loft,” he winks at her cheesily. “You’ll be the first girl to sleep in it.” 

Felicity laughs. “I already am the first girl to sleep in it. I stayed here a few nights when Thea first got home. She was really nervous about staying in the apartment by herself after Ra’s had literally skewered her in the lounge room.” 

Oliver walks up the stairs towards Felicity, stopping two steps below, locking them eye to eye. “You’ve already slept in my bed?” 

Felicity grins teasingly. “And used your ensuite, rifled through your closet for a t-shirt or two-”

“I wondered how you already had them when we got to Coast City,” he comments. 

“And cleared your internet history in case you ended up officially dead. No one wants to know what kind of porn the poor sap who died watches.” 

Oliver’s face blanches a little at the last comment. “I just want to remind you I was celibate for over a year because I had this complicated love triangle thing going with this blonde.”

Felicity gives him a light shove in the shoulder. “Story of your life really,” she teases. “Laurel. Sara. Laurel. Sara. Felicity-”

“Okay,” he grins, “easy now. You know the whole internet history, bed, closet, bathroom thing would have turned out wildly creepy if we didn’t end up together. Like Carrie Cutter creepy.” 

Felicity grimaces. “Yeah, I never thought about that,” she says, clicking her tongue loudly.“Probably should have thought about that before I told you. On the plus side, I’m a friendly stalker who doesn’t know how to shoot you with arrows. That’s a positive right?” 

Oliver nods. “Yes, it’s a positive.”

Felicity smiles and starts up the stairs again. 

“But we probably should work on that,” Oliver admits, following her. “I know Digg’s worked with you on self defence, and you’ve been to the shooting range a few times, but we really should get you trained up on some weapons.” 

Felicity stops, just a metre from the loft door. “Just to clarify…you’re actually going to train me? I have worked with you for over three years and you were always very clear, no matter how much I protested, that it was self defence only. And not with you. Both you _and_ John made that rule.”

“Yeah, well, John was trying to protect you from me, and I was trying to not put myself in a situation…like Helena,” Oliver says earnestly.

“Oh, well,” Felicity stammers for words, “then I guess its good that I don’t have a murderous mob father to enact revenge on?” She squeezes her eyes shut with embarrassment as soon as she says it. “Yeah, apparently being back in Starling has short circuited my ability to filter inappropriate remarks.” She smacks her lips together. “Let’s pretend I didn’t say that right?” 

Oliver, who had been suppressing a smile at Felicity’s gaffe, puts the suitcases down in front of the door and pulls Felicity into a searing and long kiss. It was all nipping and tongue and super hot, leaving Felicity panting when he pulled away. 

“Forgotten?” he asks picking up the bags, and nodding towards the door for her to knock. 

She nods, “Yeah,” she says breathily, “I think I’ve forgotten my name.” 

“And I think I’m going to lose my lunch,” Thea says, the door opening in front of them. She crosses her arms against her chest and grins at them both brightly. “I should probably tell you Ollie as I know you’re a little out of practice, but the bedroom walls in this place are ridiculously thin. And I’ve installed CCTV. So no sex in the lair okay?” 

Oliver beams at her, stepping into the loft and dropping the cases at the door, before swooping in on Thea and pulling her into a crushing hug. “I’ve missed you Speedy.” 

Thea pulls out of the hug with watery eyes. “I’ve missed you too Ollie.” She then locks eyes on Felicity and grins broadly at her. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes? Look at that tan!” she says, wrapping her arms around Felicity’s neck while Oliver closes the loft door behind them. “It is so good to see both of you.” 

Oliver blows out a long breath when he looks around the converted loft. The place has changed dramatically. It’s impressive, the new foundry Thea’s created in such a short space of time. 

“Step this way…” Thea says dramatically, leading them through the labyrinth of tables, weapons and cases, and towards the outdoor balcony which they had never really usedwhen it was just Thea and Oliver’s apartment.

Tonight the balcony was set up as a makeshift dining room, with a large round wooden table stretching across the long narrow space, and a selection of large high back wooden chairs topped with red cushions for comfort. The table was alight with outdoor candles, and glasses of wine and root beer. Lyla, John and Laurel were all seated at the table already, with little Sara propped up in a white plastic highchair between John and Lyla. The three of them get to their feet as they approached the balcony. 

Laurel ushers forward first to hug Felicity and then Oliver warmly in turn.

“You look good Ollie,” Laurel says with a wide smile. “Rested. Happy.” She gives Felicity a nudge with her shoulder as Oliver smiles at her. “Is that a smile? I didn’t think he knew how to do those anymore.” 

Oliver and Felicity laugh. 

“I bet he hasn’t stopped smiling since he left,” Thea says. She pokes him in the ribs. “You lovesick fool.”

And then it’s Lyla and Sara, who has been pulled free from the highchair, and the room erupts as Felicity coos loudly and excitedly over how big her god daughter has become since they have been away. Diggle, is the last to step forward, and he slowly makes his way over, kissing Felicity softly on the cheek, before turning to Oliver and offering his hand shortly. 

“Welcome home Queen,” he says. 

Oliver takes his outstretched hand, offering John a grimace. “Hey John. How are you doing?” 

“I’m good,” Diggle says with a smile that definitely doesn't seem warm at all, before moving past him to head back inside. “I’m just going to check on dinner,” he says to Lyla, whose face has fallen. 

She nods sagely, and once Diggle has cleared the balcony she moves towards Oliver. “Hey Oliver,” she says warmly, wrapping him in a hug. “It’s nice to have you home. We’ve miss you both terribly.”

“Thank you,” he says sheepishly, and it prompts Lyla to cock her head at him. “We missed you guys too. And ah, thanks for actually welcoming me home,” he says, awkwardly, rubbing his hands together.

Lyla smiles and squeezes his forearm comfortably. “He’ll get there. He might still be angry as hell, but I know he understands. He’s even got some new threads to show you.”

“Does it come with a mask?” Felicity asks scandalously, bobbing up and down with Sara on her hip. She saddles in next to Oliver and lifts Sara’s chubby little fist towards him. “Hi Uncle Ollie,” she says in a singsong voice and Oliver knows he’s a total goner. He reaches out for Sara’s little hand and takes it carefully, shaking it affectionately. 

“Hey Sara,” he says in a soft voice, bending his knees a little so he can get closer. He’s wary about taking Sara in his arms given Diggle’s frosty reception, but he tickles her belly and pinches her tiny toes as she sits in Felicity’s arms. “You’ve grown so big. And aren’t you the cutest little thing? Look at those dimples.” Sara’s dressed in a red summer onesie, showing off her chubby legs and arms with the initials VC written across her belly in cursive. Oliver raises a eyebrow Lyla’s way. “VC?” he asks. 

Lyla smiles, but it is Thea who steps forward grinning. “Vigilante Club,” she explains proudly with a wink. “I had it made on Etsy. Is’t it cute?”

“Shouldn’t one of the rules of Vigilante Club maybe be not to make merchandise about Vigilante Club for children?” Oliver teases.  

A laugh ripples through the group and Thea pokes her tongue at him. 

“Does it come in green?” he asks Thea with a wink, spidering his fingers up and down Sara’s arm, which prompts her to laugh with glee behind her dummy as she grabs for Oliver’s fingers.

When there is no answer, Oliver looks up at the faces of the four woman standing in front of him to find them all staring at him with strange expressions on their faces. He shifts his gaze to Felicity who after a few seconds clears the gooey look from her face and promptly shuffles Sara away from Oliver and back to Lyla. 

“I think my ovaries just exploded,” she says, pushing her glasses up her nose. 

“Yeah, mine too,” Laurel says clearing her throat. She looks at Felicity. “Sorry, I wasn’t making a pass.” 

Felicity holds her palms up to Laurel. “Oh, I know. Trust me I get it,” she says with a smile. She looks at Oliver and gulps. “Damn you,” she says shaking her head. “Give a girl some warning before you do that.”

Lyla and Laurel snort with laughter. “That was ridiculously too cute Ollie. You keep that behaviour up and you’re going to have to give me a niece or nephew.” She grins at Felicity. 

Oliver gapes at all of them. “What just happened?” 

Before anyone can answer, Diggle appears at the door. “Dinners ready,” he says. “Can I get a hand dishing up?”

Felicity is the first to volunteer and hurries off, leaving a perplexed Oliver. 

He looks at Thea. “Did I do something?”

She beams at him. “Oh buddy you have no idea.”

 

\- - - 

“Lyla tells me you have a suit,” Oliver says, helping to stack the dinner plates from the table into the dishwasher. 

Thea, Laurel, Lyla, Felicity and Sara are all still seated on the deck, catching up on the highlights of Oliver and Felicity’s trip.

“You suggested I get something to conceal my identity. I thought it was sage advice,” Digg says gruffly, handing him a plate. “It’s not a suit though.” 

Oliver frowns. “Come on man, I’m trying.” 

Diggle frowns. “Are you?” he says in a hushed tone, “Because you’ve been here two, nearly three hours and you haven’t even mentioned the League or Malcolm Merlyn or Sara Lance. I’m not here to have family dinner with you Oliver and pretend that everything from three months ago has miraculously been forgotten. Do what you came here to do, so I can go home,” Digg finishes pointedly.

Oliver squares his jaw, a plate in hand. “I’m waiting for the right time,” he says placing the plate securely in the second tray.

“There is no right time for this Oliver. We have to tell them. The longer we wait, the bigger the fallout from this is going to be.” 

“I know,” Oliver says both hands leaning on the bench.

“Then do it,” Diggle encourages, throwing the tea towel down in front of Oliver, “Or I will.” 

Oliver blows out an exasperated breath. “I mean I knew you were angry, but I didn’t realise you actually hated me this much.”

Diggle frowns. “I don’t hate you Oliver. I just don’t trust you.”

Oliver stands up straight, his arms folded against his chest. “I think that’s actually worse. You’ve always trusted me. You might not have agreed with my methods but I could always count on that trust when we were working together. We had each other’s backs.”

“Good thing we don’t work together anymore then, huh?” Diggle says firmly, his hands stuffed into the front pocket of his jeans. 

“What if I want to?” Oliver ventures. “What if I wanted to rejoin the ah, team?”

Diggle laughs, crossing his arms against his chest almost mockingly. “The Arrow is dead. You left the city. We carried on. We don’t need you. Why don’t you find a new crusade? I hear Thea’s still interviewing for a duty manager at the club.” 

Oliver snorts dejectedly, smarting from the cold remark. He’d probably punch anyone else in the face had they said that to him. But quite frankly, he’s out of form, and Diggle looks even bigger than before he left and Oliver knew he’d be flat on his arse on the floor in no time. Maybe they did need to beat the shit out of each other to clear this out of their system, but Oliver was level headed enough to know tonight was quite possible the worst time ever to act on that. 

“So I can’t count on your vote then?” 

“A vote? You think it’s even going to come down to that? Look man, you’ve got Felicity and probably Thea in your pocket. But you’ve hurt Laurel and Lyla just as much as you’ve hurt me. That’s a 3 to 2 vote _against_ you.” 

“Everything okay in here?” Felicity asks, stepping into the kitchen area. 

Oliver nods. “Yes, we were just cleaning up.” 

She frowns. “Listen, Laurel’s got to head out to see Lance, and Thea’s on patrol tonight and wants to head out soon. We need to say something now.” 

Diggle and Oliver nod and follow Felicity out of the kitchen and back out to the balcony. Expectantly Lyla climbs to her feet. They’d agreed that as Lyla had received the intel, Lyla would be the one to relay the news about Sara and Oliver would explain about Merlyn.Oliver and Felicity situate themselves behind their former seats near the door, and all it takes is for Felicity to wrap her arm around Oliver’s waist and him to place a kiss on the top of her hair for Thea to cotton on. 

“What’s going on?” Thea asks.

Lyla casts her gaze around the table and says, “we had some intel come through last night about the League.” 

Laurel’s brow creases in concerns. “Is Nyssa okay?”

“Nyssa is fine,” Oliver says, “the news we have is about Sara.” 

Laurel laughs sharply. “What do you mean? Sara is buried in Starling City Cemetery. What news could you possible have about Sara from the League?”

Lyla makes to speak but Thea answers. 

“The Lazarus Pit,” Thea says. “It’s the Lazarus Pit isn’t it? They used it on Sara?” Thea’s voice hikes and she unsteadily climbs to her feet. “They dug her up and they took her to Nanda Parbat and they threw her into that … that hell hole … and they brought her back, didn’t they?” 

Felicity steps towards Thea. “Thea,” she says, reassuringly, calmly, reaching out for her, “Thea, it’s okay.” And the fact that not one of them denies her suspicions sends Thea spiralling. 

Thea pushes Felicity’s arm away from her, shoving her hard.

 “Is that what they did?” Thea demands at Oliver, her hands shaking wildly, her eyes blown wide frightfully. “Did they put her rotting body,-”a sharp inhale echoes around the table and Laurel, who looks like she’s about to faint lets out a devastated sob, “in that horrific black water, and bring her back?”She spits the last few words at Oliver, her teeth bared in a snarl. 

Felicity swallows thickly and reaches out to touch Thea’s shoulder again, but Thea directs her snarl at Felicity, “Don’t touch me,” she spits. “Don’t you dare fucking touch me.”

Felicity recoils and Oliver steps forward putting himself between Thea and Felicity. Digg heads back inside with Baby Sara who has dissolved into tears, and Lyla is standing on the other side of the table, her arms wrapped around a distraught Laurel. Felicity rushes inside behind Diggle, and even with the commotion, Oliver can hear the clattering of metal drawers.  

“Thea,” Oliver commands, grabbing her arm forcefully, “enough.” Thea struggles in his grip and Oliver does everything he can to overpower her anger fuelled frame and pull her into a vice like embrace. Thea fights it, scratching, clawing at him, hissing like a wounded and wild animal. “This is all your fault,” she says venomously, this time actually spitting in his face. “You are the Leader of the League. You did this. Just like you did it to me. You should have let me die. YOU SHOULD HAVE LET BOTH OF US JUST DIE!” 

Felicity and Diggle emerge from inside, and Diggle, having put Sara in her crib, manages to blindside Thea and together with Oliver they are able to hold her shaking body calm enough, for Felicity to step closer and jab her in her arm with a needle of sedative. Thea realises right away, her limbs feeling heavy, and she bobs her head towards Felicity. “Why did you let him do this to me?” she sobs at her, tears streaking down her face. “Why did you leave me?”

Felicity drops the empty needle and gingerly steps backwards away from Thea, watching as the last of the sedative takes hold and she goes limp and silent. Once her eyes are closed, Felicity lets out her own sob and backs away to get some air. 

“I’ve got her,” Diggle says to Oliver, and he lifts Thea fully into his arms without effort. “Lyla, can you give me a hand to get Thea to bed?” 

Lyla nods and she rushes inside ahead of him, helping to clear a path from the door, through the workspace and up the stairs to Thea’s room. Oliver heads towards Felicity but she holds up her hand towards him. “I’m okay,” she says, and she slides down the wall of the balcony to sit cross legged on the floor, her glasses in her hand, “I just need some air.” She pulls the hairband from her ponytail and shakes out her iron straightened hair, her fingertips drawing calming circles on her scalp. “Check on Laurel.” 

“I can’t,” Oliver says, his eyes sweeping across the room and to the front door that’s thrown wide open. “She’s gone.”

\- - -

THE NEXT DAY.

“…this might sting,” Felicity says, pressing a wet wash cloth to Oliver’s left cheek and the three long claw like scratch marks Thea had left there in their struggle. “Or not,” Felicity says with a shrug, one finger hooked under his chin, as they sit at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, Oliver in a pair of sweats and a grey tee shirt, Felicity in one of his long blue shirts worn as a dress with a pair of mini pyjama shorts underneath. “Guess you have had a blade through the chest and fallen off a mountain in the last year. Your pain threshold is pretty high.” 

Oliver smiles, his hand reaching up to caress the hand she has pressed to his face. “Last night did not go as planned.” 

Felicity sighs wistfully. “Our plans rarely do.” 

“Did you get onto Laurel?” 

Felicity shook her head. “No, she wasn’t answering. I left her three voicemails. You need to tell her the rest of what we know and about Merlyn. Everyone needs to be on the same page right from the start.” 

The door to Thea’s bedroom opens, and with the open layout of the loft and their vantage point from the kitchen, they both watch as Thea gingerly pads across the landing, down the stairs and into the kitchen. 

“Hi,” she says, sheepishly, her arms crossed against her stomach apprehensively. She looks exhausted, her short hair total chaos, last night’s eyeliner caked around her eyes. She even has a couple of scratches on her arms and the imprint of a finger bruised into her right wrist. 

“Hey Speedy,” Oliver greets, but before he can offer her the plate of bacon and eggs he’d made, she’s thrown her arms around his neck, wet tears trickling into his shirt. 

“I’m so glad you are home,” she says to them between sobs. “Both of you.”

Felicity slips down off the stool and picks a piece of bacon off the the plate. She hands it to Thea, who accepts it gratefully, and then Felicity stands behind her and rubs Thea’s back, as she sobs and chews on the crispy bacon rasher, still enclosed in Oliver’s embrace. 

"Felicity," Thea sniffs between bites of the bacon and sobs, "I just saw you on the news in a bikini." 

Oliver snorts a laugh and Felicity groans. "Excellent. The news has reached California. next step, Nevada." 

Thea turns so she can see Felicity. "I think you should talk to your publicity department and fire any idiot that knew you and Oliver were together and leaked it with the story. See if Belinda is still there after the QC takeover. She was always great for me. She got my nude photos back before the press got hold of them." 

And Felicity wants to grin, wants to scream out a resounding thank you to gods and Google because Thea, the real Thea, is still in there. 

Oliver groans. "Thea, really? Nude photos?" 

Thea shrugs unperplexed. "She'll also be able to get you some great interviews where you can talk about the future of Palmer Tech and not have to answer tonnes of questions about this guy. Because, frankly, who cares? Oliver had nothing to do with how great you are." She places a hand on Felicity's shoulder. "Congratulations by the way. On the promotion. And joining the billionaires club. It's nice. We have champagne and cheese on Wednesday nights. Oliver isn't invited because he's broke." 

Felicity laughs when Oliver groans again, his head in his hands. "Something wrong dear?" she teases. 

Oliver studies his sister and Felicity carefully before saying, "Guess that means I get Wednesday night patrols then?"  


T H E E N D.

 


End file.
